On my keyring, I only have two keychains. A Coach butterfly charm, a birthday gift from a friend, and an Energizer flashlight covered in tan pleather. When you squeeze it, it lights up. I use it a lot, and I am very cautious and concerned about its little lifespan. I don't like it when people play with it - switching it on and off with a gentle push. I take this little convienence tool very seriously.

My Dad gave me this keychain several years ago. He most likely got it for free when he bought cigarettes or found it in a parking lot somewhere. He was always finding random objects and trying to pawn them off on us. One year, he found a gold Flyers charm and tried to convince me to wear it to school.

"This is nice Kris - look, 14 karat gold!"

I think he ended up sporting it - to support the Flyers? To show off his find? To prove me wrong? Who knows...

Back to the keychain - I am sure when he gave it to me, I mocked him. "Gee, thanks Dad," I probably said. He always took it in stride, my teenage ridicule, laughing right back at me - knowing he was goofy and enjoying it. It's the same way I am now, I am always laughing the hardest at my own jokes.

It probably made him feel good to give it to me, like it was something I'd always have with me. And I am sure he gave me about 17 uses for it at the time. Five or so years later, I think of him everytime I pull it out. When I am rooting through my bag on the train, when I'm trying to fit my key in the door of my apartment, when I am finding my way through a dark area...there it is, to my rescue, so to speak.

My Dad didn't impart volumes of knowledge upon me in the 52 years of his life. He wasn't always around for that, for the advice, the pep talks, the guidance. But he got his snippets in, here and there. There are very poignant nuggets that I've retained - some trivial and some much more significant.

I can still hear his scratchy voice each time I put the cap on a two liter bottle of soda. "Twist it tight! I don't want it going flat!" I don't even have two liter bottles of soda in my apartment that often, but when I do, you can bet I probably only drink from it once, as after I've put the cap on again - I can't get it reopened for the life of me.

I used to drive an old Chevy Cavalier wagon in college, for freshman and sophomore years at least. It was powder blue. The back door did not close, so in order to keep our belongings in the back during our rides to and from Washington D.C., my friends

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