What the heck is a "purser" anyway?

When I was growing up and watching Love Boat, I always wondered about Gopher. I knew they called him the ship's purser, but what the heck is a purser, anyway?

I don't know about Gopher, but I'm pretty sure that I'm one. And it's got nothing to do with ships.

I've recently discovered that I just really dig purses. They make me happy. They do so much more than accessorize, you know. Sure, they add the "pop" of color to an ensemble, and they hold everything from your wads of chewed gum in wrappers to your business cards to your phone/iPod/Bluetooth/miscellaneous gadgets. But they also soothe a tired soul. They don't mind when you're carrying "water weight" (sure, let's call it that), and they'll never fit you too tightly or too loosely. They don't mind being slung under your desk or on the couch or in the backseat of the car. They provide a wealth of random bills and coins when you're organizing them and all of their siblings in your closet.

And they even serve as prey. My sister and I discovered on a stopover in Yuma, before heading to Las Vegas, that even the cutest and most awe-inspiring purses can pop up in the strangest of places. Say, a swap meet on a cement slab. Or a gift shop off the Strip. Or ...

Well, you get the picture.

I don't put my purses up on pedestals, or in velvet bags or in boxes. But I appreciate them for their beauty and their incredible ability to contain, conceal and camouflage my wadded-up receipts and array of pens. Sigh.