Wallets, billfolds and money-clips

When the nurse handed me my vaccination card she said, “Keep this in your wallet.” Hmm, where did I put my wallet? For the past year we’ve been paying for stuff online with a credit card.

I found my wallet and decided to do a little house cleaning. How much of this stuff do I really need to have with me every time I leave the house? I can pay for gas and groceries using my phone and ApplePay. And I’ve always kept some cash in a money clip. I see that some get by with their driver’s license and a credit/debit card in a phone case. Which got me wondering… do young folks still carry wallets?

“The difference between billfold and wallet is that a billfold is a small, folding sleeve or case designed to hold paper currency, as well as credit cards, pictures, etc while wallet is a small case, often flat and often made of leather, for keeping money (especially paper money), credit cards, etc.” (WikiDiff)

Forty years ago, when I started wearing suits to work, I carried a wallet in the inside pocket of my suit coat. (The one on the left in the photo below). When I hung up the suits for last time, I switched to a “billfold” (middle) and kept it in a pocket of my laptop case.

Along the way I kept looking for ways to lighten the load and tried some that didn’t fold at all. Just some pocket for credit cards and a magnetic money-clip. I’m giving that a try as I get back in the world.

I’ve long been fascinated by “fat wallets” and collected a few photos over the years. Each of the wallets pictured below were carried in the hip pocket. I would have dearly loved to got through the contents of each of these. What a story they could tell.

And no discussion of wallets would be complete without George Costanza’s exploding wallet. Another scene from the Wallet episode.

Coming Out Day

It’s been two weeks since I received my second dose of COVID-19 vaccine. Time enough for my immune system to generate antibodies to the virus which means exposure to the virus probably won’t put me in the hospital or kill me.

A year ago I was still having lunch with friends in restaurants. And wiping down table tops with antiseptic wipes. (We hadn’t figured out the virus was air-borne.) Soon after Barb and I went into lockdown. We quarantined more diligently than anyone I know and maintained that diligence for a year. When Barb visited her sister they wore masks and did their brief chats outside, twenty feet apart. No birthdays, no Thanksgiving, no Christmas. Serious isolation. You know the drill.

Now that we’ve both been vaccinated, we’re venturing out. Barb going for walks with (vaccinated) friends; sitting in her sister’s (vaccinated) kitchen; going inside the supermarket instead of curbside pickup. We’re still masking in public and will do so until the scientists tell us it’s safe to stop.

Barb and her sister will spend a week at our place in Destin this spring. Just the two of them. They have a lot of catching up to do.

In recent weeks I’ve realized how much the year of near-isolation has affected me. The stress has started to show and I’m eager to get out of the house and be with some friends. “Have you been vaccinated yet?” has become a common refrain. I feel like I’m in a zombie movie. I don’t see any but I know they’re out there. But it’s time to rejoin the living. Wish us luck.

“Gratitude factories”

“The arrival of The Shot has transformed the grim pop-up clinics of the pandemic into gratitude factories — reassembly lines where Americans could begin to put back together their busted psyches.”

The joy of vax: The people giving the shots are seeing hope, and it’s contagious (Washington Post)

Hattie

Vaccination free-for-all

While my vaccination story has been surprisingly smooth, not so for most folks. Part of an IM exchange with a friend in Massachusetts:

The state has just opened up vaccinations to those 65+ and he’s been trying to get his father an appointment. In the photo below he has 24 browsers open on four computers (and an iPad).

Vaccinated


Received second dose of vaccine (Pfizer) this morning so I guess I’m as vaccinated as I can be for now. Vaccinated. The word has taken on something of a magical quality (in my head). In a few weeks my immune system will have created enough antibodies (another word with big mojo) to keep me from getting sick or dead from the virus.

I feel like the kid who has been given a super power but can’t think of anything to do with it. “Go inside a grocery store” doesn’t seem very ambitious but I’m looking forward to it. And sitting in the same room with a (vaccinated) friend.

The Big Payoff will come from Barb spending time with friends (most of whom have been vaccinated) without worrying about infecting me with the plague.

I’m aware posts like this are a bit like “Here’s a photo of me with my new Lamborghini,” but perhaps it will encourage someone to get vaccinated that was reluctant to do so.

“John Mays for Mayor”

In 1971 my pop ran for the office of mayor in the small town where we lived. He was 45 years old at the time. Not sure why he wanted to be mayor. He’d served on the city council for six years and must have found that satisfying or interesting (or something). According to his answers to a series of candidate questions in the local paper, he left radio in 1964 to take a job doing public relations for the local light and water utility. Held that position for three years.

Even with the positive name recognition that comes from being on the radio in a small town, he lost the race by 56 votes. A day or two after the election, he put a concession ad in the local paper.

Recent events (on the national level) make my pop’s little ad all the more… gracious? After losing the race, he stayed in radio for another dozen or so years. And then ran for County Assessor (and won)! My mom was in poor health and I think he was looking for a more reliable income than sales commissions from selling radio ads.

John must have had more of an interest in politics than I remembered. Six years on city council; a run for mayor; and a stint as Dunklin County Assessor. I recall him saying he spent “33 years in radio” but now I’m thinking he meant “a span of 33 years.”

“I Miss My Mom”

“She wasn’t always like this,” Sam said. “It just keeps getting worse.”

Children of QAnon believers are desperately trying to deradicalize their parents. Here’s what it’s like to lose the person who raised you to a far-right cult.

“Though she didn’t used to be very political, she now fears the president is a pedophile who stole the election. She’s scared of radiation from the 5G towers in her neighborhood and, as a white woman, she told her son, she’s afraid of being harmed by Black Lives Matter protesters — a movement she once supported. She worries that Sam’s brother and sister are being “indoctrinated” at their public high school and wants to move them to a Catholic one. She’s also refusing to get them immunized against COVID-19 as false rumors swirl that the vaccine contains a secret location-tracking microchip. (She was initially terrified of the virus but now considers the lockdowns an affront to her freedoms.)”

I think this would be worse than losing a parent to a fatal illness.

“Pfizer’s vaccine extremely effective in the real world”

Israeli study finds 94% drop in symptomatic COVID-19 cases with Pfizer vaccine

“Israel’s largest healthcare provider on Sunday reported a 94% drop in symptomatic COVID-19 infections among 600,000 people who received two doses of the Pfizer’s vaccine in the country’s biggest study to date.

Health maintenance organization (HMO) Clalit, which covers more than half of all Israelis, said the same group was also 92% less likely to develop severe illness from the virus.

The comparison was against a group of the same size, with matching medical histories, who had not received the vaccine.

“It shows unequivocally that Pfizer’s coronavirus vaccine is extremely effective in the real world a week after the second dose, just as it was found to be in the clinical study,” said Ran Balicer, Clalit’s chief innovation officer.

He added that the data indicates the Pfizer vaccine, which was developed in partnership with Germany’s BioNTech, is even more effective two weeks or more after the second shot.

Reuters

“I could be one of the diers.”

Inside the Trump White House After His COVID-19 Diagnosis. Olivia Nuzzi article in New York Magazine. For those of us wondering what sort of drugs Trump might have been on following his brief stay at Walter Reed…

“He’s on the sort of drugs you’d see with a Tour de France rider in the mid-’90s!” Another way to say this, the former White House official said, was that the president is “hopped up on more drugs than a Belgian racing pigeon.”

But the money quote that will stick with me is from Trump’s niece, Mary Trump:

“The president is best understood as a self-unaware Tin Man, abandoned as a small child by his sick mother and rejected by his sociopath father until he became useful to him, whose endless search for love and approval plays out as mental warfare on the Free World he improbably represents. “In order to deal with the terror and the loneliness he experienced, he developed these defense mechanisms that essentially made him unlovable,” Mary said. “Over time, they hardened into character traits that my grandfather came to value. When you’re somebody who craves love but doesn’t understand what it means — he just knows he misses it and needs it, but he’ll never have it because he’s somebody nobody loves — that’s fucking tragic.“