The Boy and His Prizes

There has been a tradition in Madre and Padre’s house of “prizes”, which are little tokens that you give amongst the family “just because.”� I think that it originates from Grandma Gauchat’s house and the three boys would leave with brown-paper sacks full of snacks/candy/various sundry things to entertainment.� Once, Madre complained that they boys were too old for their goody-bags, and obstinant-Grandma-Gauchat’s response was, “The hell they are!”

And so, I’ve succumbed to giving prizes when I see neat things for The Boys.� I once bought them all lighters in their corresponding colors: The Boy got a red one, Edward Norton-Twin got one in blue, and Abercrombie-Twin got one in green.� I think they all lost their lighters, but it’s truly the thought that counts.

Anyway, The Boy had a unique name for 1981, and when he was growing up, Madre always had a hard time finding prizes with his name on them.� In recent years (about the last five or so), The Boy’s name has regained popularity, and all of a sudden, things that are personalized to his name are everywhere.� [My name, however, is still always the less-formal spelling of which; which I answer to, but I don’t specifically go by.]

Near to my house is a Drug Mart, which is something of a purveyor of crap.� Like, this place sells some of the weirdest shit I’ve ever seen.� But, they purvey a lot of personalized crap, so every time I go, I look to see what they have.� Sometimes, notepads; sometimes photo-frame keychains; sometimes pen-and-pencil sets.� I always check to see if they have The Boy’s name.

Today, I bought The Boy a prize: his name, on a magnet.

I like buying him prizes.