“That Bank Closed in the ’80s,” My Father Scoffed—The Account Was Very Much Still There

but still legible. Inside, the first entry was dated March 15th, 1971, a deposit of eight thousand dollars in my grandfather’s careful, neat handwriting. My father had said this passbook was worthless, that the bank didn’t exist anymore, that it had closed in the 1980s. My mother had agreed, suggesting I not embarrass myself by taking it seriously.continue reading …