Who Carries a Handkerchief Anymore?

     One of the many things I like about Mike is that he always carries a handkerchief.  Once, while with some friends, I asked to borrow his hanky.
     "We used them as kids, but who carries a handkerchief these days?" a male friend wondered.
     A lively discussion ensued which touched on the the unsanitary nature of used handkerchiefs versus the blow and throw virtue of tissues, the disgusting thought of laundering hankies with other clothing versus the equally disgusting thought of saving them up until there were enough for a separate load, and the options of ironing or merely folding.
     There's no denying the romantic images those squares of cotton conjure up - ladies dropping lace trimmed swatches for the nearest man to retrieve, men offering crisp, white cloths to teary eyed damsels, John Wayne, face wrapped in a bandana, staggering through a dust storm, a dirt poor farmer mopping his brow.  Perhaps handkerchiefs should never be used for clearing the nasal passages.  There are plenty of reasons we should have a drawer full of them.
     Campers and survivalists point out that hankies are useful for:
          Bandages
          Water Filters
          Sweatbands
          Ties for Splints
          Tourniquets
          Signal Flags
          Sun Hats (Corners tied)
          Neck Protectors (Dry) and Coolers (Wet)
      You don't have to venture out into the woods to find some alternative ways to employ a handkerchief.  In a pinch they can serve as placemats, napkins, dish cloths, or pot holders.  You can get some extra traction by wrapping a hanky around a hard-to-open jar lid.  You can tie loose change, your rings, or any collection of small objects into a handkerchief for safekeeping.
    There are some other ways to press one's handkerchief into service.  Dressing up the dog and performing magic tricks are wholesome activities.  Then there is the seamy side - blindfolding kidnap victims or making a mask to rob banks.  I would never rob a bank, but, I confess, I have, on dinner outings, been tempted to stuff one of Mike's neatly creased hankies into a screaming brat's mouth.  My bad.