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This
is the pin that I got when I graduated from kindergarten. I've always
been a sucker for nostalgia (in other words, a packrat), so I kept
it. I had it stored away for the longest time in that one drawer
that just serves to accumalate stuff, alongside my retired boy scout
uniform and various other artifacts of my youth. I had the inclination
to rummage through said drawer last Christmas when I went home (that's
right, all of my stuff was still where I left it, but that's because
I moved into the basement, which wasn't exactly prime real estate
in my family). I found this pin, and after a brief chuckle, I attached
it to my sweatshirt (my only one, I might add, the one I wear nearly
every day). It hasn't come off since (except when I just now had
to place it on the scanner bed).
For me, it serves many purposes. My first reaction upon my discovery
was one of disbelief. It was unfathomable that I was once that small,
young, and cute. Its a constant reminder that time is continually
passing, and I'm not getting any younger (or cuter for that matter).
It makes me want to give that happy little boy something to keep
smiling about. Back then, graduating kindergarten was a big event.
Now the goals are a little higher, but the principle's the same.
The pin functions on a completely different level due to the fact
that its a pin, and not a stagnant photograph. It makes people confront
even the changing nature of strangers. We see people every day,
but rarely do we account for them as human beings unless we knew
them personally. They become obstacles on a crowded sidewalk, extensions
of their vehicles when on the road, and catagorized nuisances in
various settings (telemarketer, salesman, beggar, politician, etc.),
and rarely do we account for the fact that they had the same basic
life struggles that we've had. Perhaps not everybody reads that
much into it when they see me wearing the pin, but at least it gets
a lot of females to touch my breast and comment on how cute I was,
and that's why the pin stays.
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