Posted September 30, 2015

 

No matter your profession, it’s always nice to hear feedback – positive, negative or neutral. If you’re like me, you believe criticism is even good, provided it’s positive, fair, offered with good intentions and designed to help you grow professionally. As a journalist, I’ve heard my share of commentary (negative and positive) over the years, so I’ve grown a thick skin and consider all of it worthwhile. At least somebody’s reading me, I say.

 

Recently, I received a correspondence from a longtime industry colleague who I haven’t seen in years. The missive wasn’t critical at all, mostly ruminative. And I was moved by his prosy reflection on his textile career – so much so that I’d like to share some of his words with you, with his permission, of course. I’m sure many of you can relate to his thoughts.

 

Walter Sherman wrote:

 

“After nearly 40 years in the textile business, I left in early 2004 about the same time somebody flipped a light switch and dozens of plants seemingly went dark overnight. It is almost 12 years later and I still miss it terribly. Most important, I would have never guessed how much I would miss the people. I miss my colleagues at home and around the world from my days in the mills and my stints with Schlafhorst/Zinser and Rieter.

 

“Being in sales for most of that time, I also dealt with shift supervisors in the plants and management all the way up to CEOs and chairmen of the board. As you can imagine, along the way I encountered countless machine technicians, machine operators, service personnel and even sweepers. I miss every one of them. All of them hard-working, God-fearing people who were each and every one trying to do the best they could for their families. Wonderful people, one and all. Very, very special people indeed.”

 

Kindred spirit, I’d say.

 

He continued:

 

“I also miss the simple things like the smell of cotton. After a week or two in the mills you don’t even notice it because it rapidly becomes such a part of your DNA. However, after you have gone without it for a few weeks, you realize how much that wonderful scent has become a part to you. Without it you actually experience a withdrawal of sorts. Forget about the complex bouquet of a big Cabernet Sauvignon or a fine, but delicate Pinot Noir. Give me the soft, sensual fragrance of raw cotton any day. I enjoyed that unforgettable perfume and the people associated with it for the better part of 40 years. To paraphrase Lou Gehrig, ‘I am the luckiest man on the face of the earth’ … because I spent most of my life in the U.S. textile industry."

Walter’s words resonated with me, and I’m sure with a lot of you, too. He summarized, probably better than I could, some of the biggest reasons I decided to return to this great industry. The people, for sure. And the sights, sounds and, yes, smells only found in our production plants.

 

Beyond that, I, too, am proud to be a part of a group of people who clothe the world, who help protect our warfighters and first responders, who provide comfort and fashion to our lives, who make our world a better, safer place in many ways.

 

Thanks, Walter, for making my day and for so eloquently putting into words why many like myself have found a home in the textile industry.

Kindred spirit