I recall a time when Grandma Helen had taken Michelle and I to a downtown department store. She had given us each a dollar to spend on whatever we like. I fell in love with a plastic bank that resembled a Martian caught in a bag of Money. It was 2.00. Michelle wanted a Skipper doll which she said she’d be getting from her other grandmother and she would lend me her dollar in which to purchase my beloved bank (whom I named Michael).
I don’t know where my grandma had gone as we were ready to make our purchase. The issue of leaving children alone in the department store did not seem to be a huge safety concern as it is today. I took the bank up to the counter. The cashier rang me up. The total came to $2.06. I was eight or nine and had not considered a tax fee. Why would I? I didn’t have six cents to spare!
A kindly man took a nickel out of his pocket and placed it on the counter. One cent more to go. The cashier decided to spot me a penny. I was so excited.
I don’t have an actual picture of Michael and so created this from memory. I had Michael until two years before Jenna was born. Our house had been broken into when we lived in Kearns and Michael was stolen.
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