I wore a gold chain yesterday.

When I was fourteen years old, my Mother gave me her Father's gold chain. It's a big 'ole gold rope, and at the time, I thought it was fantastic. Don't get me wrong, I still think it's fantastic- I loved my Grandfather, and he loved that chain. Having it means the world to me. But at the time, I thought that wearing the big gold rope was cool. Granted, at the time I thought "pinning" jeans and bathing in Drakkar Noir was cool. Did I mention I was fourteen?

So I hadn't worn the chain in a while. It just sat in a little keepsake box (btw, I wonder if reading the words "keepsake box" made you feel as manly as it made me feel typing the words "keepsake box). And then just last week, my brother and I started talking about wearing gold chains. Why didn't we wear gold chains? Did anyone we know wear gold chains (or wear pinky rings, or drive Sedan de Ville's circa 1987)? I decided that it was time that I rock the gold!

So yesterday, I wore a gold chain. It felt good, although judging from my wife's reaction, I may have looked silly. Maybe I just need to grow into it.