This Reminds Me

Archive for October 21st, 2007

My favorite purse of all time has given out after five years of faithful service.  The inside pocket tore out two years ago.  The piping has badly frayed.  The strap has been shredding for months.  Finally the fabric forming the closure totally wore away.

It spent more time on my shoulder than my any one of my kids did.

A woman’s purse tells a lot about her.  A man’s too, I suppose, but I’m not going there.  Is her widdle purse just precious?  She does not have children who hand her things at school, at church, in the store, etc. to “hold this for me, Mom.”  Is her purse a darling, trendy fabric?  It’s not had ketchup packets squirted on it at McDonalds, and I’ll bet no one has thrown up in it, either.  Is it free of scuffs and tears?  It’s not been clipped into umpteen grocery carts, kicked under church pews or dragged on the driveway.  Does it not contain a half-used packet of Kleenex, plus several shredded tissues stuck to half-sticks of gum?  She is wiping no nose other than her own.  Does her purse hold a billfold or cardcase?  She is likely hauling insurance cards, orthodontic reminders, a Blockbuster card, frequent buyer cards, the latest school pictures and – yes! – return address labels. Does she change purses with every outfit?   She has a life outside of the perpetual school-church-HEB-office-orthodontist-Costco circuit.   Is her purse the size of a Samsonite rolling bag?  Then it belongs to my sister Judy, who totes enough gear for a third world nation at all times.

I paid $20 for my wonderful purse in Laredo in 2002, a real bargain compared to the “best price for you, Miss” $35 asking price.  It’s driven roundtrip to Mexico a few times.  It’s ridden trains in Russia and Austin. It’s plummeted down Bug’s White Water Rapids, and soared up to Indianapolis and Chicago.  Like me – it’s been around.  And up.  And sometimes down.

This purse was so darned practical.  I could carry it in my hand, sling it on my shoulder or use it as a backpack.  It was plain.  Solid black wipe-off fabric, no weirdness, nothing fussy to break off or tear away.  It was good-sized - big enough to hold all I needed and more than I wanted.  It had hidden depths.  An inside pocket for keys; bottom zippered cache for those pesky reading glasses; exterior pockets for my every-ready cell phone and always-needed Kleenex.

Practical.  Plain.  Good-sized.  Hidden depth.  And often worse for wear.

Yep.  You can tell a lot about a woman by the purse she carries.

Especially this woman.

p.s.  Congratulations to my cousin Terry for winning our October 12 “Name Calling” contest, describing Lois’ new do as “2 Cool.”  That describes not only Lois’ haircut but also her being chosen for region choir this weekend.  Terry:  Watch for your fabulous prize in the mail, girl!