I am old school. I carry white handkerchiefs in my pockets.

Handkerchiefs have a long and noble history. The word “kerchief” comes from the French word “couvre-chef” meaning “head covering.” Kerchiefs are square pieces of cloth used to cover the head to keep the hair in place and to protect the head from the sun. It is thought that King Richard II of England (1377-1399) invented the handkerchief when he began using a kerchief to wipe his nose. This was considered more refined than wiping the nose on a sleeve. Richard was descended from the line of aristocratic Normans from France who invaded England in 1066, bringing their refined French culture with them. “Hand” was added to “kerchief” to distinguish the “handkerchief” from the “kerchief” (it would not be a good idea to mistake one for the other) and to signify that the cloth was held in the hand to wipe the nose.

One of my daughters recently reminded me that when I sneeze, it is loud and powerful. Kleenex is far too flimsy to handle my sneezes. I use my handkerchief.

Early on, I began carrying a second handkerchief for my wife and daughters. I am old school and a gentleman, and a gentleman always needs to have a second, freshly laundered handkerchief to offer to damsels in distress. The second handkerchief has proved useful on many occasions. When something sad occurs, or when something sad occurs in a movie or on television, my wife and daughters cry. They are sensitive people. One daughter especially cries in sad movies, such as Terminator. When she got married, I handed her husband a wad of white handkerchiefs, indicating that it was now his responsibility to comfort her when she cried.

My daughters are convinced that, as a strong and stoic male, I am not emotional. I do not cry. They have never seen me cry.

Which just demonstrates that they are not very observant and have not been paying attention.