$2 Bill

I'm not sure why, but sometimes I'm reminded of sweet little things that happened in the past and today was no different.  Unfortunately, most of the time the sweet little things are often clouded by the ugly, terrible or evil and today was no different.

First of all let me say that I do NOT go out shopping on Christmas eve, especially with only 3 hours of sleep.  So today was a new experience for me.  Secondly, my husband is a ROCKSTAR!!!  We went to the mall, pet store, Walmart and Hyvee in less than 2 hours and he scored front row parking at both the mall and Walmart.

As we drove by a couple banks, I saw older men walking into the lobbies.  Because my brain now powers down, I wondered as I usually do what they must be doing.  Making last minute deposits to cover their wives' shopping sprees?  Year end banking before leaving town?  Avoiding the shoppers and getting cash for gifts?

It must have been how my Grandpa looked on Christmas Eve as he walked into the bank at home.  As far back as I can remember, my grandpa would go to the bank and get $2 bills for each of the grand kids.  A $2 bill wasn't just a rarity, but for us poor kids it was a lot of money.  He would hand them out to us on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day.  We would hang onto them as if they were gold.

Looking back on it, I fondly think of it as one of our rare, but unique family traditions.  A tradition that eventually stopped, but one I remember so well.

When I was little, I would hold onto my $2 bills tightly.  I'd add them to the $5 I got from a set of great-grandparents.  Sometimes, I'd hold onto the $7 for a couple years in a row.  Eventually, I would take my small (ginormous to me) pile of cash to the bank and deposit it into my savings account.

I still have the little hand written bank book where you can see small deposits made every few years.  That was long before everything was electronic. 

It was as an adult I found that little bank book.  The deposits were mostly there, I think.  I had one deposit of $25 when I was in elementary school.  I won a Farm Bureau safety poster drawing/coloring contest. 

To spare you the details, my mom wiped out every penny from that account.  Never for me, but for herself. 

Of course, the sweet memory is also marred by the terrible things my grandpa did.  It kind of takes the innocence and kindness away when you know the kind of man he was then. 

The bad erases the good and life continues to go on.  However, I do wonder if I would have carried over any of these traditions if I'd had kids.  Maybe!