He gets that from his mother, no doubt. She lived through the Depression. We take on the traits of our parents. And so, he saves.
My mother, for the most part, is a tosser. She's not wasteful by any stretch but she has the ability to let go. To some things. Not all.
And so it was yesterday as I helped her sort through some stuff, long-forgotten stashes of – well, let's be honest: crap – that had been saved because, well ... because.
It was a time warp. "Is that a lint brush?" I asked. Yep. Tins of shoe polish, the contents of which were no doubt petrified by now. A cloth measuring tape coming apart all along its lengths, looking like a long-haired woman in a convertible on the highway.
And the small pink box of Ko-Rec-Type. Executive Ko-Rec-Type.
I remember using Ko-Rec-Type, back in the days before technology combined correction film and typewriter ribbon.
I slid the box apart. "Are you sure you want to get rid of this?" I asked my mom sarcastically. "There are still unused sheets." She gave me the look.
I slid the box back together and dropped it back into the bag.
But I had to rescue the Ko-Rec-Type for a wee photo shoot.
I took out the two used sheets and held them up to read what someone had corrected long ago.
Sometimes, these posts write themselves ... .