As I was leaving the house this morning, I found myself thinking about my grandfather.
I remember that he carried everything, everything, in the breast pocket of his shirt (invariably a short-sleeve white button-up, like NASA Mission Control). Glasses, garage-door opener, about a thousand pens, etc. He even used a pocket protector, poor guy. When I was a kid, I thought it had something to do with being old.
As I was leaving the house, I found myself slapping my jacket pockets to make sure I had everything; reading glasses, phone, pen, COVID mask, etc. Then I realized I seem to be turning into my grandfather.
That's as far as I'm taking the comparison, though. I ain't drinking that crappy Texas beer he liked...
= new reply since forum marked as read
I even buy pocket tees, but I don't put pens in my shirt pocket anymore...spoiled a shirt that way a couple times and learned not to do that. And I didn't like pocket protectors, they preclude using the pocket for so many other things.
Oh! Don't forget car keys, credit card, cash, tissues...so many really important things.
My grandfather worked at a blast furnace in a steel mill and would come home and sit in the basement beside a WARM (well, not refrigerated!) case of beer and have 2 before showering and coming up stairs for dinner. And man, was it EVER bad stuff - and WARM!!!
He was actually a distinctly unpleasant person. Growing up the second-youngest of fifteen in an Alabama farm family, he was a charmless ultra-conservative Southern Baptist who beat my mother at the slightest wrongdoing.
He could be a bully, but my grandmother was the one who wore the pants in the family. He had eight older sisters growing up who pampered him, so he always let my grandmother run things.