A bit more than four years ago, I painted my own version of Aum in Sanskrit (“The Last of My Jokes on Abstraction,” May 23, 2011). It is stark and powerful. The painting has been gracing my livingroom wall ever since. Each time I spot it, I pronounce the word with relish. Several months ago, I decided to have it printed on the chest of a T-shirt, which I even imagined wearing from time to time. Through a friend in Motovun, I have access to a T-shirt printer in Poreč. As I explained to my friend when I gave her a drawing of my painting, it should be in red or reddish-brown on a yellow or orange T-shirt. For some reason, the printing turned out to be much more difficult than I expected. I got the mother of all words printed sideways a month ago. To me, it looked wrong. And today I got it printed upside down. It looks very wrong, as well. The last of my jokes on abstraction is turning into a real joke by now, and I wonder whether I will ever get it printed as it is meant to be. Come to think of it, perhaps my version of Aum is not meant to be printed on the chest of a T-shirt, anyway. Indeed, would I ever dare to wear it after all these mishaps?

Addendum I (July 15, 2015)

A week later, I finally got two yellow T-shirts with my version of Aum printed in red on their chests. And without a glitch. As I write, I am wearing one of them. This time around, I love the last of my jokes on abstraction quite a bit. All it took was a little bit of perseverance, as ever. The only remaining problem is that I must not look at myself in a mirror, as I just did a moment ago, for the word will appear back to front from my vantage point. The best I can do is to give the two T-shirts to friends I see often enough, and delight at spotting them ever anew. Each time, I can pronounce the mother of all words with growing relish.

Addendum II (August 10, 2017)

One of the T-shirts with the last of my jokes on abstraction went to my No. 1 son, who lives in New York City. I can only hope he wears it often enough to the delight of his friends and acquaintances. The other is still with me, but I wear it rather rarely. Out of the blue, I put it on this morning. On my way to the grocery store, many people were surprised by my looks. “Hey,” they would point at my chest, “what’s that?” Bereft of a straightforward answer, I went for yet another joke: “It spells ‘good morning’ in Bulgarian.” After a chuckle or two, they would leave me alone. Explaining the sign on my chest would take quite a while, it goes without saying. The last of my jokes on abstraction might well take an entire lecture.