News and Journal
By Jim Hunt for the News and Journal
There’s a small, leather wallet I carry every day that holds more than just cards and cash—it holds memories, wear marks from life’s journey, and a quiet reminder that some things just get better with time.
I bought the wallet over forty years ago. It’s a classic Coach brand, made from thick, high-quality leather, and I probably paid around $90 for it back in the early 1980s. At the time, that seemed like a small fortune to spend on something as basic as a wallet. But here it is, still with me, still doing its job, and still fitting perfectly in my pocket and in my life.
It’s been a companion through job changes, kids growing up, bills paid, and receipts forgotten.
It’s held business cards from people I’ve met, pictures of people I love, and the occasional emergency $20 bill that somehow manages to stay tucked in the back.
Over the years, my wife has occasionally suggested that I might want a new one. “Maybe something slimmer,” she says. Or “That one’s getting a little worn.” But I always smile and tell her the truth—I’m just not ready to change. This wallet has outlived more than a few trends, and probably a couple of cars. And honestly, it might just last me the rest of my life.
I think back to when I was a younger man, carrying a Velcro wallet made from nylon, the kind that made that signature ripping sound every time you opened it. I went through a few of those, usually cheap and usually worn out within a year or two. They served a purpose, but they didn’t stick around long enough to earn any sentimental value.
It’s funny how we rarely stop to appreciate the things that endure. A wallet, a wristwatch, a well-worn pair of boots, even a favorite coffee mug—they quietly serve us without asking for much in return. In a world that seems to celebrate the latest, the sleekest, and the fastest, there’s something deeply comforting about an object that simply lasts.
We live in a throwaway culture, where some people have had over ten cell phones with automatic upgrades and patience is optional. But there’s wisdom in longevity. Whether it’s an old wallet or a long friendship, some things grow richer with time—not just in appearance, but in meaning.
So, the next time you’re tempted to replace something just because it’s old, take a moment and think about what it’s been through with you. Sometimes, the things that stay with us the longest are the ones that end up mattering the most.
As for me, I’ll keep my leather wallet a while longer. It’s more than just a place to carry my ID—it’s a reminder that value isn’t always in what something costs, but in how long it’s been part of your story.
