As an adult in my mid to late twenties, I was surprised to find that my dad kept a couple of my letters in his wallet. These weren’t letters from me to him. Rather, they were letters written to me that he’d asked if he could keep when I wanted to throw them away. Years later, he still pulled them out periodically to show to his friends. He was so proud that one of his children, a daughter even, had been sent letters from West Point asking her to apply to go there and informing her that all students at their prestigious educational institution received a scholarship for a free education (assuming they graduated and completed their military obligation afterwards). I hadn’t applied there. I hadn’t even considered a military school. But I’d taken the ASVAB test and done very, very well on it and so they contacted me, trying to convince me to go there. Why had I even taken the test? I think my high school told me to. Or had at least told me it could help me get into college. So I took it, but I wasn’t interested in the military. The faded letters had been folded and refolded so many times that they were likely to soon disintegrate along those fold lines, but my dad still had them in his wallet as they meant a lot to him.
Funny the things that stories on a politician will bring back.