My mom liked to save a souvenir of every single flirtation, real or imagined, that she had as a youth. Now I can understand her keeping these things as a young, single girl. But to know she saved them for her whole life just blows me away. They weren't forgotten; she knew where they were and what they represented, even as an old woman. I think perhaps that when she held one of these keepsakes, it brought back the carefree days of youth, and she remembered how wonderful it was to have the boys vying for her attention. Click to make the pictures larger.
A candy bar my dad gave my mom before they were married, and twelve years before I was born. Notice she even told the story on the envelope in which it was stored. Knowing how little they were paid, five cents for a candy bar was a pretty big investment!
I wonder what they were quarantined for.
She saved two things in this envelope: a burnt match...
and a cigarette, which is now only a cigarette paper. Raymond was my dad's younger brother. I think my mom was trying to decide which brother she liked back then.
One sad evening my mom was stood up, I don't know by whom; and she was driven to write a poem.
I'm glad I got around to scanning these things today, because they're getting pretty crumbly.