Beneath the Wraps

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 m...