Tokens

I don’t know if you remember subway tokens. They took up your pocket or purse. Turnstiles and tokens.

Now I’ve an issue with the new chip reader machines. With some I have to leave a card in there for up to five minutes and always worry I’ll leave it behind. My husband made sure I’ve a photo of our dog on that card and I certainly do not wish to leave her behind, ever.

Most days I took lunch to school. I didn’t like it. Usually a bologna and cheese sandwich because I never enjoyed PB&J like the other kids.

Moms were given the option of buying monthly tokens for lunch and a separate token for milk. It was thirty-five cents for a horrible hot lunch of rubbery “cube steak,” and a two cent token for a cup of regular milk. My allowance was fifty cents per week. No, I didn’t trade tokens for money.

If I got a hot lunch and milk, I splurged and may have spent two cents per week for chocolate milk (it was three cents when regular milk was a two-cent token). Many years later, I buy this chocolate milk every once in a while to have in the frig. Sometimes my husband even has a glass.

In a day where I can take a photo with my cell phone and have a chip card in my wallet I don’t need tokens but they remind me of childhood.

This post is dedicated to a retired architect and his wife, a feminist and advocate. They move out (next street over) today. We’ve been neighbors for nearly five years and they check on me every week as my husband is off on business a lot. They will be missed. I am making them a special lasagne they can just pop into their new oven and have dinner ready in a jiffy.

We’re down two Swedish families. One single guy taught me Kottsbullar (pronounced Shots BULL-are) that are Swedish meatballs. I taught him true Texas chili. We believe he met the love of his life here and they’re probably married now. Last time we talked he’d taken her home to meet Dad and it went well.

I flew to Texas to meet my future-in-laws. Sweden is serious, and I love G’s father, got to go to botanical gardens and art museums with him and loved driving him around town. We still have one Swedish family we know, with two young boys who love balloons. Yes, my husband twists balloons when he’s not saving huge companies from software issues. He orders the balloons from ….. Sweden.  Cheers! Dee

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One response to “Tokens

  1. The eldest Swedish boy loves our dog. She’s shedding her undercoat so she can prepare for another for winter. I told the boys I mess with her fur, with my hands, outside so that every squirrel can have a “down comforter” this year. Elder apparently took undercoat off Zoe and said “Look, Daddy, my hand is full of fur!” I’m sorry, and certain he had to wash his hands before school, even though Zoe is clean. I’d like to think he’s watching out for Zoe and the squirrels. Smart kid.

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