Tuesday, August 03, 2004

In Spring, 1986

When I was 12 years old, my father took me to a store named A&N in Chester, Virginia. He told me that since I am approaching 13, I need to use the wallet.

"Because you are going to be a man."

I stared at Dad and muttered, "Oh. But Dad, I tried yours one time -- when I tried to sit down, I felt out of balance because it is so thick ... it bothered me!"

Dad shrugged, "Nonsense, you will get used to it. You have to have it because someday, you will get a license, bankcard, all important stuff that you need to carry with you for a lifetime. You just have to do that."

"But I do not like the wallet! Mom has it much easier, carrying the purse then toss it away when she gets home. You do not."

Dad said, "I always toss my wallet in the bedroom, that is why you do not see it. Deanna always left hers in a place for the world to see. That is her, but not me."

I sighed. Then we pranced around to see the assortments of wallets. Some leather, some colorful, some cool, some lame ... I was purely indecisive and I was not sure what to choose.

Dad said, "Just take one -- stop wasting our times, the wallet is not meant to be show off, it will be hidden in your pocket where nobody can see it. No big deal, just take one."

I looked at him, then at wallets. I was still indecisive. Dad was impatient and grabbed one wallet that has two colors: Orange and black. Dad bought it for me and gave it to me, "You wear it from now on. Go in the minivan, now." I sighed and looked at the wallet.

Today, I still have the same wallet. It is falling apart and I am still indecisive about the next wallet.



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