My family often teases me about the “stuff” I’ve kept and carried from house to house over the years. I’m not sure what I currently have in my storage boxes, but it IS somewhat remarkable that after fifty-one moves, half of them made as an adult, I have managed to keep anything from my childhood. One might assume that I would get tired of dragging some of it around or that I would have lost more by now. Yes…and yes. I’ve voluntarily disposed of some of it. Given some to other family members. And sadly, lost some things along the way. Now I’m once again going through boxes and paring down my stash of memories. Remarkably I’ve already found three things I wasn’t sure I still possessed.
In the fifties there was a district plan to encourage math and reading and character skills by letting students open their own bank savings accounts. I remember being so excited about the privilege of having a bank book, just like an adult! And while some of my classmates struggled, I had no problems filling out my deposit slip or figuring out my balance. The idea of teaching responsibility and thriftiness must have also worked because I’ve always tried to keep a little money tucked away for a rainy day.
I vaguely recalled seeing my little bank book a few years ago, but finding it this morning was still just a little surprising. For one thing, I had forgotten about the note from Mom that was tucked inside. And I had forgotten about going to two schools that year.
Obviously I wasn’t on the road to riches with this account, and we moved after that year to one that didn’t participate in the program, but I still think it was a great experience while it lasted. And I’m SO very happy that I’m one of those people who keeps stuff!
(Note: my teacher at Roosevelt was Mrs. Koligian and the principal was Mr. Ecklund.)