A comb, a wallet and a watch

They seemed to be the icons of rights of passage. A comb, a wallet and a watch.

I so wanted to wear a wristwatch. But my dad didn’t think my 10-year-old self was responsible enough yet. So I was given a test of sorts, keeping track of something else of lesser value.

A pocket comb.

Ok, I thought, I can handle this. Sure enough, even with a few broken teeth (the comb’s, not mine!) and some playground dirt, the “hair conditioner” survived the allotted time.

“Hey, Dad!” I asked. “Now may I get a watch?”

Hmmm…what? Another gate? A wallet? While I didn’t have any ID and rarely any cash to carry, it made sense. Really, a cheap plastic billfold from the dime store was much cheaper than that Timex. Ok, I can do that.

I watched that cash keeper like a hawk. Sure it got dirty and scuffed. But it rarely left the back pocket of my Wrangler jeans.

Sure enough, I passed. Dad okayed Mom taking me to SS Kresge to pick out a wristwatch. We had a budget limit but I gleefully picked one out. I wore that watch well into junior high. In fact, I think it was high school before it got replaced.  And that high school watch lasted until my wife bought me a Seiko when I got my first professional job.

They might have only been simple personal items. But my parents taught me responsibility with them. Let’s call them signposts on the road of life.