If you knew me in high school and college, besides my beautiful brown eyes, winning smile, hair down to my shoulders (not knees) you would remember one thing about me: my Beatles belt buckle.
As the family realized I was the throes of Beatlemania albeit a decade late, they learned to accept it. One sign of acceptance was a small present my Dad gave me. It was out of the blue and not related to my birthday or Christmas.
At one of the many car shows Dad attended (much like me and
ComicCons), he saw a brass belt buckle that caught his eye. He bought and gave it
to me. I wore it every day until The Wife convinced me it was not ‘professional’
and if I wanted a ‘grown up’ job, I should only wear it away from work.
It was brass. Not too large but not timid. I would polish it
and it caught the light. This quiet shy nerdy kid would walk into a room and be
noticed. I know it was unique because every time I went to a record shop to add
another Beatles album to my collection, someone would offer to buy it from me
or offer to trade the buckle for the album in my hand. I always refused. This was a gift from my
DAD. He saw this belt buckle and instead of continuing on his way, he stopped and
bought it.
After 3 or 4 offers, I mentioned it to Dad. I was trying to convey
how proud I was to have that belt buckle and how coveted it was. He had a different
view. He told me to take the money. He could get another. I was shocked. This
was a cherished procession. 45 years later, I still have that belt buckle.
AH
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