…Moving out of the house we moved into in 1963. He has been living there since then, and now that mom is gone this three story 4 bedroom 2 1/2 bath colonial in suburban Northern Virginia is really too big for one man in his eighties.
So Dad has been slowly but surely going thru a house that has accumulated fifty years of family. Some of it goes to charity, some to family and some just in the trash. This piece I almost had him toss but then thought, what the hell it might be kinda neat to see.
When I was a baby my maternal grandfather put some money in a trust fund for his first grandchild, me.
Really it was not much money, and by the time I was in high school it had turned into just over $500. A sum I used to go to NARAM 16.
Because of all that lovely money I got as a baby the gummit said I had to get a social security number. I don’t ever remember seeing the card (though my signature from about age 5 is on the card) but Dad found it and sent it to me.
The brochure that came with it was an interesting slice of early sixties Government Communicating To Citizens from the U.S. Department of Health Education and Welfare, “Your Social Security Account Card, WHAT it is, WHAT you do with it & WHY.”
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