Wallet
R.I.P & Birth







Say hello and goodbye to this sorry looking specimen of loyalty and perseverance. This has been my wallet for the last fifteen years. I found it rummaging through my dad’s things when I was ten. And quickly thought it a lucky charm as it proved to be the only wallet which I did not proceed to lose within the first month. Through the years it slowly began to lose various layers. First the faux leather layer went, and then the faux fuzzy layer beneath it, then the layers beneath that, as well as the Velcro wore off. At some point I modified it so that I could insert money more freely by cutting open one of the ends and had to consequently sow closed the change pocket on that side.

But in recent years the last couple layers began to wear through and larger chunks began tearing off. Money began poking out the back and change started spilling from where the stitches I made had come apart. It soon became clear the wallets time was coming to an end, and having never come across another of its like, I began wearily considering taking what was left of the wallet to a tailor or seamstress to make me a new one.

The decision to go through with this plan was harder than I expected. I started to realize the wallet had at some point become a symbol. It was a fixture in my life, and on many levels represented me. Hideous in certain conventional respects, it was none the less highly effective from a utilitarian point of view, unique in make, and highly enduring. My loyalty and monogamous commitment had become personified.

I always forgot how odious it was in the eyes of others and this often resulted in hilarious clashes. One time in particular comes to mind where I was on a first date, and I took my wallet out to pay for the cab ride, but It was full of hundred dollar bills (long story) that I was annoyed to have to weed through for change, when I looked up and the girl was looking with the most confused shocked expression at the juxtaposition of my decrepit wallet, full of hundred dollar bills, and me seemingly un-phased by either.

But I digress; I can’t allow myself to get lost in revelries of times past. It was in this state of hesitation that the holidays found me when my friend Melissa pulled my Christmas present out from her sweatshirt pocket. It was a wallet, my wallet. But no, it was much cleaner and un-torn. I looked at it with vacant incomprehension while she very soothingly assured me that she knew what my wallet means to me and doesn’t want me to feel pressured to accept it, but that she had found a similar one and wanted me to have it etc… I looked at her dumbfounded as she handed me the wallet. And sure enough it was almost the exact same. I had never seen another of its kind and was staring at it in disbelief while I blubbered half incoherent expressions of gratitude to her for her thoughtful present. I can count on one hand the number of good presents I have received in my life. I’m almost impossible to shop for and have a taste that is infuriatingly demanding and specific. But here Melissa had seen how pitiful my wallet was, taken special notice of its brand and design and had found the same where and when I have no idea. And had given this amazing present to me completely unprovoked. Sometimes I forget why women are so amazing, and then something like this happens and I thank god for their existence. And Mellissa is one of the most amazing of the bunch.

Within a few days I had digested what happened and resolved to start the new year with my new wallet. I made the same modifications as I had to my old one, and am happy to say my new wallet is resting in the back pocket of my pants as we speak.

New wallet:





After modifications: