Mom’s Purse Is a Source of Mystery

Friday, April 14, 2006

Page 15

AT THE SIDEBAR (Column)

Mom’s Purse Is a Source of Mystery

By J’AMY PACHECO

For some women, a purse is a fashion accessory. For others, it’s a helpful tool for the efficient transportation of assorted girl things. For me, it’s both of those, and much more.

My friends call my pocketbook my “magic money purse.” On several occasions I’ve insisted I wasn’t carrying cash, only to look again and discover a bill or two hidden in a pouch or fold. My daughter still talks about the December night we found ourselves outside Riverside’s Mission Inn, wanting to take a spontaneous hayride to see the holiday lights.

I wasn’t carrying cash (I’m notorious for that), and didn’t want to wander the streets in the dark in search of an ATM, especially with a little girl in tow. At my daughter’s urging, I took another look — and found enough cash not only for a hayride for two, but for funnel cake and hot chocolate afterward.

My daughter thinks it was a Christmas miracle.

The reality is that it’s easy for money to hide in my purse. It’s not that it’s a big purse, it’s just…shall we say…well-stocked.

How some women get away with carrying tiny purses is a mystery to me. In my mind, those aren’t pocketbooks, they’re little more than Kleenex transporters.

My purse is fat, heavy, and quite useful. For example, if my family dines at a restaurant where children get menus to color, I can usually come up with a variety of colored crayons to supplement the standard red and blue most restaurants give out.

If somebody needs something, from a band-aid to an aspirin, it’s a pretty good bet I’ll be able to fill the order.

I think it’s a genetic thing. My mother hasn’t zipped her purse in 22 years. When she went to Canada last year, her suitcases closed nicely. It was her purse somebody had to sit on.

Carrying a well-stocked purse sometimes makes me feel like the Ancient Mariner lugging his heavy albatross. (But a purse is a lot better, because most days, it doesn’t have that dead-bird stink.)

One sure way to lighten it up is to do a coin-dump. I know this because I was in a store one day when the cashier mentioned she needed pennies.

Good citizen that I am, I reached into the bottom of a large pocket where I dump all of the loose change I get. I was able to help her fill her penny drawer — and ended up trading $16 worth of coins for paper money.

Now I look at the coin pocket as an alternate savings account.

You never know what you’ll find in my purse. (Half the time, I don’t know, either.) But when I had trouble closing it a few days ago, I decided it was time to find out. Even I was surprised by what came out of it.

I found, for example, a stock of pens from companies I’ve never heard of. I use a lot of pens in my work, so finding a good supply wasn’t a surprise. But the company names and slogans certainly were. I wonder if I’ve been pen-swiping in my sleep?

I also found a lot of pencils, many with holiday themes. One was covered with metallic spider webs. Since I don’t use pencils very often, the source remains a mystery.

I even found a tiny flashlight, which must have seemed like a handy thing to have when I put it in there. And it probably would be, if I ever remembered I had one.

I found keys I don’t recognize, one worn Bazooka Joe comic strip, a pair of movie tickets from January and a lot of receipts for venti sized mocha drinks.

I also found a lot of Kleenex in the bottom of my purse. It was worn and lint-covered but otherwise unused. Gross, maybe, but when you need a Kleenex, nothing else will do.

There were gift cards that I’d forgotten about, an emery board, and a fun-size packet of Sweet Tarts.

And receipts. I found receipts for gasoline purchases, parking and groceries. There were receipts from my favorite bookstore, a local pharmacy, and records of nearly every drive-through Diet Coke purchase I’ve made. There were receipts for seemingly everything that has ever been purchased including one, I believe, for the United States’ purchase of Manhattan.

My purse is surprisingly light now. There is so little stuff in it that I suspect I could — for a few days, anyway — get away with one of those Kleenex-sized pocketbooks.

But I think I’ll stick with the big one. I mean, you never know when you’re going to need a place to put an albatross…