Carrying a Hanky Is a Gesture of Active Kindness
Don’t leave home without one
There will be blood. There may also be cheese.
The first time I ever offered someone a handkerchief, I was at a party, on a first date with my now-wife, and she bit into some sort of fried cheese hors-d’oeuvre. The molten cheese exploded down her chin.
“Hanky! I have a hanky!” I yelled, actively undermining what otherwise would have been a cool act of chivalry.
When you carry a hanky, it’s not for you. It’s not for your nose, your fingers, your brow. I mean, in an emergency, sure. Wipe your nose, your fingers, and your brow (not in that order). But primarily, the hanky is a service you can provide for others in an emergency. It’s the defibrillator of clothing accessories.
I’ve used my handkerchief as a makeshift tablecloth for lunch on a hike. I’ve offered it to people with various sticky substances on their hands. I’ve wiped off dirty park benches with it. I’ve used it (and the childless may want to skip to the next sentence) in lieu of toilet paper for my kids at a park. A few days ago, before a wedding, I bought some shoe polish and shined my scuffed-up shoes with it in a 7-Eleven parking lot. As I dropped my soiled hanky in the trash, I counted it as a wedding gift to the happy couple.
