Of Life and Times

Friday of last week my wallet was stolen from my front yard. I guess it fell out of my pocket when I got out of the car and someone picked it up and ran off with it. It was not like they could not tell who owned it, I had every ID I owned in there. But despite the loss of the money, credit cards, ID cards, etc. the one piece of paper in that whole wallet that means more to me than everything else combined is my social security card.

When I was twelve years old we were living in Alaska. My parents told me that we had to get a social security card for me. Some new rule or something. When I received my card I felt so grown up. I was now recognized by the Federal Government as a real person. Don't ask me now why that is supposed to be anything special. I guess to a twelve year old boy there is an air of mystery surrounding something like that. Over the years I guarded my wallet like a she-wolf. No one was going to throw me into a pool or get my social security card wet, it was my original. Well, I was able to protect it for almost 41 years before losing it. I guess that is better than many. What I miss about it is that it has the signature of my 12 year old self on it. The signature is so old and faded as to have lost its visual appeal, but it reminds me of who and what I was a long time ago. I'll miss my old companion. We have been through a lot of living together. Come to think of it, I have lost a lot of my visual appeal as well. Hmm ...