What was I thinking? For over 35 years I have diligently kept all the pieces of paper I was brainwashed into believing I would “need” someday. The IRS would almost certainly audit me, and if I didn’t have that shoe box full of receipts from 1979 to 1986 verifying the daily commute on the Massachusetts Turnpike, I would surely end up in jail. Likewise, every receipt for every major purchase – and this began back when many were still being hand-written on little pads like waitresses used to in coffee shops. The first adding machine I bought from the stationery store (do any of these words mean anything anymore?) was paid for by check, and I still have the little yellow receipt.
When these gave way to the very high-tech three-part forms with actual carbon paper inserts, I started saving those too. Remember those machines they used to put your credit card in, place the carbon form on top, and slide the top across to capture the imprint? One of the funniest images I ever heard a comic suggest was that if every time someone paid by credit card, they had their fingers run through that machine, we would never have a debt problem. Maybe we should have tried it.
Bank statements from 1981? The rubber bands holding them together have all died in situ and are now dusty little worms I can pick off with my fingernail. BayBank, US Trust, Shawmut – the banks have changed corporate identities at least four times, the accounts are long closed.
And I still have approximately 12,600 cancelled checks in my attic.
(Calamari, onion rings, or antique rubber band?)