Today I was shopping for a new purse. I own two purses, both name brands, and both cost too much. The one I currently carry is black for fall and I was upset because it’s only one-year old and the handles are fraying. The other purse is cream colored for spring. I decided spring is close enough so I tried to switch today. Another frustration because the cream purse wasn’t quite large enough to hold all my stuff. It was large enough last spring so I’m not clear why it wasn’t large enough today.

I ventured out to look for purses and prior to leaving I’d already decided to forego the “over-priced name brand.” Being retired makes you look at personal expenses differently. As I looked at various handbags I couldn’t find one that satisfied me because the non-name brand purses just weren’t as soft, not as accommodating as the ones with the tag letting everyone know what you paid for your purse. My emotional file cabinet flew open and I was reminded of my Dad and the five dresses my parents always bought me for the beginning of school.

As time approached to return to school in September – yes we didn’t begin until after Labor Day – Dad would give my Mom money and we’d drive from Nocona to Wichita Falls to purchase dresses at Levine’s. I was always allowed to pick out five new outfits for back-to-school. I’d have a new dress to wear everyday the first week of school. This was always a special treat and looking back, something that no doubt was difficult for my parents to buy.

This tradition continued for several years until one year when Dad threw me a curve, another one of those lessons that at the time I didn’t quite understand until adulthood. Today digging through purses I was reminded of the change Dad made that year and the power of his choice on another young girl.

When I was around 10 I arrived home with my five new dresses and tried each one on – pranced around the house excited about showing them off at school. The next day when Dad arrived home from work he told me to get the new dresses and come with him. While that was an odd order you just do what your parents tell you – or at least you did in my house! We loaded up in Dad’s pick-up and headed for the dump ground. There was no such thing as trash pick-up in our town. You placed your trash in metal barrels and took it to the dump ground. A family lived close by and their job was to rake and cover up the trash everyone dumped.

I went there with Dad often and one of the daughters of the couple who worked the dump ground was in my class. I was confused because we didn’t have barrels of trash in the truck. We stopped at their house rather than going to the dump. Dad told me to get my five dresses and come with him. I did and we walked to the front door. My Dad was raised in poverty and had an appreciation for anyone who works hard – regardless of their chosen job. He greeted the father with respect and asked if we could come inside. The house was tiny and the odors of everyone’s trash floated down to their house. I remember wondering how awful it would be to smell that all the time.

Dad told the man I had something special for his daughter and asked if we could talk to her. Now understand I was not privy to any part of his plan. His daughter came into their small living room and Dad shared we had five new school dresses and we’d like to give her one of them for her first day of school. I can still see the shocked look on her face and have no doubt I couldn’t hide the shocked look on mine. Her clothes consisted of items others disposed of at the dump ground or clothes that were given to her from a church. Items others no longer wanted. Dad spread out all five dresses on their couch and told her to pick any one she wanted. It took her quite a while – and you guessed it she picked my favorite one. The one I planned on wearing the first day of school.

I recovered well because there really wasn’t any other choice. We visited for a while and were thanked hundreds of times for the dress by the parents and their daughter. Dad picked up the four dresses and we said our goodbyes and headed to the truck. As we left their house I sat silent, a little angry, and very confused. Then my Dad spoke. “Linda Raylene do you know what just happened?” I shook my head no. “How many dresses do you have for school?” I responded with four. “Yes you have four brand new dresses and how many does she have? She has one – one new dress that hasn’t been worn and she got to pick out that dress.” I told Dad that she took my favorite dress – the one I was going to wear on the first day. He shared we would have the blessing knowing on the first day of school she would feel good about how she looked – even if it was just for one day. That day she would look like everyone else – coming to school in new clothes.

As you can guess this became a tradition with us as long as they lived there managing the dump ground. For obvious reasons friends were hard for her to make so Dad would usually drop me off at her house and we would play together while he took our trash to the dump.

Today I left the store with my black purse with frayed handles. When I got home I clipped the strings off the handles and it looks fine. Today I didn’t need a new purse – I needed a reminder of Dad’s lesson that one small act of giving has a ripple effect that can completely change the life of someone else.