Irecently watched Bill Moyers' PBS interview with Sam Keen, the philosopher whose newest book is "Fire in the Belly: On Being a Man." Keen was so charming and forthcoming that I was taken with it. Moyers asked him, "What do you have in your pockets?"
Keen said the things we carry identify us and our culture. A driver's license shows we need "permission" to drive from a higher authority - credit cards show we all belong to the same "club" - and money.He cut holes in a dollar bill, put it up to his eyes and said, "We don't just look at this money, we look through it at the world."
So I checked my own pockets. I don't carry one of those nerd-like pen holders in my shirt pocket - just one trusty red Parker ball point. I also tend to write down things I want to remember on a 3-by-5 card and put it in that same pocket.
No day planners for me.
In my left pant pocket I carry a small comb, which I probably don't need, and some fingernail clippers. In my right pocket I carry a small, red oval coin purse with a faded John Hancock Tower from Boston emblazoned on the back, a secura-key card (so I can get into the Deseret News), and a set of keys.
The keys have a Boston Celtics emblem, two car ignition keys and two house keys. Like all loyal Americans, I am addicted to cars as our modern way of conquering distance.
In my back pocket I carry a wallet - one that gets fatter and fatter, week by week, until I invariably ruin it. It is just a matter of time until it bursts at the seams, and I have to replace it. When I do, I always throw a lot of stuff away and am amazed at how thin it has become and how much better it feels in my pocket.
In the meantime, this is what I have in the wallet: A Utah driver's license, containing my face sporting a crazy, wild-eyed smile. (I always smile for those photos, because no matter how bad the smile, it is always better than the sick scowl and closed eyes that would otherwise memorialize my image.)
There is also a Deseret News press pass containing an equally bad photo. Then I have several pictures of my family in some dirty, dusty wallet windows. Between the pictures in one window is a tiny card with a travel regimen written on it. It came from a friend and lists three different vitamins anyone should take before they go on a trip to avoid catching a cold - 1000 mg of Vitamin C, 100 mg of B6 and 1000 mg Ltyrozin.
I also have a Social Security card and an AAA membership card. In the pockets I have the usual credit cards - Visa, Mastercard, a bank guarantee card, two oil company cards, a U of U faculty ID card, a Reds Frozen Yogurt punch card, a couple of my business cards, several business cards belonging to people I have interviewed. (I don't need the latter any more - but I don't dare throw them out yet.)
I also have a miniature U. of U. diploma, a little card with my son's Tahitian address, a voter information card, a Cottonwood Heights Community Spa membership card, and a couple of auto insurance I.D. cards.
In the billfold portion I have a few dollars, a couple of lapsed group admission tickets to Cineplex Odeon, several bank deposit receipts, a receipt from a book I recently bought, and an 800 number I keep thinking I'll call to get an old recording of "The Four Freshmen."
I don't know what any of this means - except now that I took it all out to see what I have, I can't get it all back in again.
It's time for a new wallet.