Why? Because we like it.

There's nothing more comforting than an old favorite - an old favorite sweatshirt that's soft and faded with a few holes here and there, threadbare jeans that never let you (or your backside) down, comfortable friends that you've known for just about forever, and that one song that makes you glance around (to be sure that no one is looking) as you turn up the volume and transport yourself to an imaginary stage, with an imaginary microphone, for the best imaginary performance ever. We even have our old favorite foods. Some we still eat on a regular basis. Others, like Mom's macaroni and cheese, are left out in the cold - until a crises arises. I don't know about you, but I always crave mac and cheese when I'm feeling blue.

I have one friend who puts on the classic Paul Newman movie Cool Hand Luke whenever he's feeling down. Since I've known him, he’s worn out two VHS copies and is working on the DVD. Of course, I've known him a long time. Once I asked him, "Why this movie? Why not rent a new movie...one you haven't seen, or one that will make you laugh?" He explained that Newman's character is stubborn like himself, and he can relate. And that it always lightens his mood. "This movie is about principle," he said. "Standing up for what you believe in." A little deep for me, but it works for him, which is all that matters. It's his old favorite, and this I understand completely. I have a ragged old red sweatshirt from the Hofbräuhaus in Germany that should have been tossed out years ago. Instead, it holds a place of honor in my closet. And, like the good vibes my friend gets from his favorite movie, this sweatshirt always makes me feel good. It reminds me of me a thousand years ago - traipsing through Europe with my college roommates. Unfortunately, like my friend's favorite movie, my sweatshirt is now a private affair. Carefully guarded and not for public display.

But why not? For public display, I mean. Must we eat our mac and cheese in private? If our old favorites make us feel so good, why do we feel embarrassed when we seek them out? My friend hasn't clued his new girl into his Cool Hand Luke matinees, and if anyone happens to see me in my old sweatshirt, I immediately apologize for its condition and quickly change into something different - something more fashionable and certainly less worn. Shouldn't we embrace our old favorites? Perhaps pay homage for all the comfort they've provided over the years? Or does our desire to be "cool" outweigh everything else? Maybe if we admit to our weaknesses and vulnerabilities, others may get to know the true "us." Isn't this what we want? Friends who get us and like us for who we are?

My best friend offers up a good example of keeping old favorites under wrap. Several months ago she was given free front row tickets to either U2 or Jimmy Buffett. One or the other, but not both. She agonized over her decision. She felt that she should take the U2 tickets because in many circles Bono is "the man," and certainly a very hip choice. But wait a minute, we're talking about old favorites here. Yes, my friend likes Bono and has for years, but her favorite performer of all time is Jimmy Buffett. She knows every one of his songs by heart, and is even on the cover of one of his albums. There in the audience, arms raised in allegiance with fellow parrotheads, she is most definitely "fins to the right." Should have been a no-brainer. Alas, it was not. Instead of deciding on her own, she asked her "new friend" which concert he would prefer. Oops. He said U2. Such a dilemma - and front row tickets no less. Finally, unable to admit to her new guy that she really wanted to see Jimmy Buffett - and that he was not only her old favorite, but her most favorite entertainer of all time, she fabricated (p.c. for lied) a scheduling conflict for the night of the U2 concert, and chose the Jimmy Buffett tickets instead. Crises averted. She got what she wanted and her secret was safe. Everything worked out perfectly.

Or did it? U2 came to town first...before Jimmy. When the reviews came out, they all hailed an incredible once-in-a-lifetime performance by Bono and his crew. This was just days before the Buffett concert. My friend was despondent. She said she blew it big time. Instead of being excited to see old Jimmy again, all she could think about was missing the concert of the year - front row center. It was plain to see that there were no parrothead hats, shark fins, or even Hawaiian shirts in her wardrobe plans for Jimmy's sold-out Orange County performance. She didn't even go to the ritual tailgate party, which is always the tailgate party of the year here in the O. C.

She did go to the concert, however. And bright and early the next morning she called. Bursting with excitement, she gave me a play-by-play of the evening. The concert was fantastic - and she and her new friend had a great time together. It seems that she finally let loose about halfway through the performance and began singing out loud - along with everyone else in the audience - including her date. Her new guy got an earful, and something interesting happened. He found out that her old favorite is Jimmy Buffet and she found out that his old favorite is Jimmy Buffet. To think that they almost missed the boat to Margaritaville because they were both too worried about what the other might think. What a shame that my friend let her desire to look better to the outside world outweigh her desire to feel better on the inside. She should have trusted in old Jimmy - he's always a hard act to follow.

We all have hard acts to follow...our old favorites. Clothes, songs, food, movies, books - even people. Just because we find some new favorites along the way, there's no reason to cast aside our old faithfuls. Nor does it mean we're stuck in the past - or we're uncool. It simply means that we like what we like. Period.

Therefore, I’ve decided to invite a few friends over. After all, it's five o'clock somewhere. I think I'll wear my old red sweatshirt, serve up some mac and cheese, and put on a little Jimmy Buffett. Come on over and sing out loud. If I don't answer the door right away, please be patient. I might be looking for my lost shaker of salt...

Happy New Year to all... and here's to "auld" friends and "auld" favorites. May they be one and the same.

Dedicated to Su-Z-Q. © 2005 Teresa G. Franta