One time near my birthday, Frank, my sister and I went to Chinatown for a stroll. Because it was near my birthday, Frank bought me a small present, which was a shiny coin the size of a silver dollar. There was a fierce looking dragon on the other side, and the logograms were crisply struck and had deep outline.

Any one knew it was a counterfeit and a fake coin and had no value as currency or trade item, but I didn't care. I kept it for years and always carried it in my coin purse. Until one day at Lindley and Joyce's house, while we were all busy folk dancing, some rat went through everyone's purses and stole money and such. We all cursed when we found someone who was associated with us in some way had betrayed our trust, and called the thief every name in the book, that lowlife thieving damn junkie.

As a result, I have no keepsakes from Frank. Not a photo, nothing. My sister showed me a sympathy card from Frank when our Dad died. It was a simple card and he'd just signed "Frank". But I remember things, like this coin.  ¶ 1/20/2011 01:10:00 PM