1.As far back as I can remember, there wad a large pickle jar . As a small boy I was always fascinated at the sounds the coins made as they were dropped into the jar.

2.When the jar was filled, Dad would troll the coins before taking them to the bank. Each and every time, Dad would look at me hopefully : "Those coins are going to keep you out of the textile mill, son. You're going to do better than me. This old mill town's not going to hold you back."

3.As he slid the box of rolled coins across the counter at the bank towards the cashier, he would grin proudly. "These are for my son's college fund. He'll never work at the mill all his life like me."

4.We would always celebrate each deposit by stopping for an ice-cream cone.I always got chocolate. Dad always got vanilla. When the clerk at the ice-cream parlor handed Dad his change, he would show me the few coins nestled in his palm. "When we get home,well start filling the jar again."

5.The years passed, and I finished college and took a job in another town. Once, while visiting my parents, I used the phone in their bedroom, and noticed that the pickle jar was gone.

6.The first Christmas after our daughter Jessica was born, we spent the holiday with my parents. After dinner, Dad took turns cuddling his first grandchild. Jessica began to whimper softly, and Susan took her from Dad's arms and carried the baby into my parents' bedroom to diaper her.

7.When Susan came back into the living room, there was a strange mist in her eyes. She handed Jessica back to Dad before taking my hand and quietly leading me into the room.

8.In parents room , there stood the old pickle jar, as if it had never been removed.I starred at the pickle jar. Then I dug down into my pocket , pulled out a fistful of coins and dropped the coins into the jar. I looked up and saw that Dad,carrying Jessica.