Gatherer of Small Treasures

 

Not unlike those poignant moments in time that I wrote about a couple of weeks ago are the little treasures I have gathered over time. They, too, would not be important to others, but for me – they are meaningful because of the memories they bring back and in doing that, they capture moments in time – bits and pieces.  I know, for a fact, that I am not the only gatherer of treasures in this world. I see them in other’s homes as well. Perhaps they are what make a house a home. Perhaps they are an important part of living.

I can stand in one spot in my kitchen and see many of these cherished valuables – like half of a black walnut shell that looks like a monkey’s face. I figure it brings me good luck.  Don’t know why. Then there is the branch that would make a fine support for a macramé wall hanging (if I ever get to that). More significant are the cracked crock that holds small sticks and twigs collected by my grandson when he was a toddler --  and -- the invaluable rocks on my window sill that were painted painstakingly by my granddaughter when she was 7 or 8. The list goes on and on.

These treasures span generations of family.  Always on display somewhere is the mini totem painted by one of my kids years ago.  The other day I ran across an evening bag that had belonged to my Aunt Doris – back in the day when people carried evening bags.  I think people used to go to fancy gatherings more back then.  I cannot think of one single place that I would need a beaded evening bag these days.  Or maybe it is just that I wouldn’t want to go to them – it could be that.  I am just not a dress-up and wear uncomfortable shoes person. 

One of my most favorite treasures is a small, clear florist’s vase that holds many of the oil painting brushes that my Mom used.  In the bottom of the vase are the tiny tacks she would use when stretching canvas onto a frame.  I love these brushes, etc. Her little tack hammer is my favorite Mom memento. I saw her using that little hammer off and on throughout my entire life.  I miss her. I actually put two of these mini "art" collections together so that my sister could have one too.  She also was a gatherer of treasures. Big Time. I miss her too – every single day. Thinking of her brings to mind a lot of other important treasure pieces -- priceless – like the small bracelet she took off her arm and gave to me one time, a long time ago, when I admired it. I also keep a small note that she wrote to me several years ago on my desk where I can see it every day. It reads "Just because... 😁".

Perhaps the most impressive display for a visitor though is a full printer’s box repurposed to hold a tiny treasure in each little box.  This hangs on one wall in my kitchen and holds everything from hand painted thimbles to old Star Wars figures, a PEZ dispenser or two, and wooden Play Mobile people that I used to dread stepping on. (They are almost as pain inducing as Lego blocks.) Each item brings back memories of my kids’ childhoods or of special moments of some sort. On another wall across the room are some of my Dad’s sleigh bells that I found in his barn. They should not be in the barn gathering bat dust; that’s for sure.

Add a lifetime of photos, letters, school papers, children’s drawings and it is an amazing collection.  I am blessed.  Put everything together, in any order at all, and they tell the stories of my life. I have surrounded myself with amazing treasures.  They may not be as protective as a rabbit’s foot or other type of talisman, but these assorted finds are important each in its own way.  I don’t think I have a favorite, but the envelopes I have of my children’s hair from their first haircuts, each lock carefully wrapped in tissue paper that has yellowed over the years, are serious contenders for sure.

I think such “valuables” are a part of the human condition.  It doesn’t matter where in the world you live, what language you speak or what color skin you have. I like to think that we all are gatherings of the treasures of our lives – just some of the details are different.  I hope so anyway…. Similarities... parallels... both make connections.  Maybe the world needs to keep this bond in mind.  It might help alleviate some of the pressure of these times. Ultimately, we are all in this together. Right?

 

 

Cringe worthy moments indeed...

 

Warning…. I watched news this week…

 

Cringe worthy moments are a part of it all.  Let’s face it – we all have had them.  Some are so bad that they still make you sick to your stomach 45 years later… like the time you realize that you have offended your own wonderful mother and your sweet, kind mother-in-law by naming your two new Boxer puppies after them.  Huge mistake for sure!  I have more of these moments than I like to think about. In fact -- the episode of the naming of the Boxer puppies is autobiographical – as I am sure you guessed.  Oh my … 

The thing is that I am always thankful that my cringe worthy moments have not been caught on camera.  Wouldn’t it be awful to be famous – in the public eye all the time?  I would hate it for sure.  Anyway – when I think of this type of cringe worthy event, I can’t help but think of President Trump dancing to the music at his rallies – by himself.  It is like watching your parents dance for the first time – in public – where your friends can see them.  The thing is –The Donald and I are about the same age. (Well … I am a bit younger…).  He, perhaps, should know better – or maybe I am just a stick in the mud. Actually, in retrospect, The Donald is prone to cringe worthy moments of a variety of sorts… in my humble opinion.  Then again…

I have to tell you though – this bumbling, apologetic manner and the stage whispering that our current president is doing of late is more than just a cringe worthy embarrassment. I find it sort of frightening as well as unsettling and creepy. But there is more.  When he whispers into a microphone and then leans in even further to whisper to someone standing off camera to his right, “Was that Okay?”, well -- it is more than embarrassing or creepy.  It is unnerving. It becomes the ultimate cringe worthy situation. Why are there not more reporters who will focus, if only for one moment, on this type of behavior of the supposed leader of the free world?  Who is this person standing off camera to his right? I think we are entitled to know. It matters. Since when does a President of the United States have to ask permission to do anything – to ask whether it is okay to answer a question of a reporter or if he did okay? Then to add to the concerns – along with the stage whisper -- is his tendency to say that he doesn’t want “his people” to get mad at him. He has repeatedly made reference to what he is supposed to do or say … or even to question what he is about to put his signature on. Wait. What?  Remember him wondering out loud what he was signing while on camera in the Oval Office at the beginning of his Presidency?  Remember that large stack of Executive Orders? You know – the ones that affect all of us?  Who are his “people”? Who put the stack of orders on his desk? (Are they handlers? You know – handler in the sense of a person in charge of or training another…. You find handlers in zoos, for instance.) Cringe worthy for sure.  What is going on here?

Further -- was the current President of the United States joking about using nuclear weapons against his own people? (Why would anyone joke about that?) Are there not at least three dozen members of his own political party who recommended "on the record" that his unlimited powers over the “red button” be limited? As I recall the Speaker of the House was trying to legislate that before he was even in office and she specified more than once on camera that it was to be an after the 2020 election consideration. Currently the President has total power over the use of nuclear weapons.  There is nothing anywhere that says he cannot make this decision totally on his own. Is he alone? Or – once again - who are the people who seem to have a hold over him, the people he looks to for approval or permission? 

An even more unnerving thought -- is this the ultimate case of elder abuse of an enfeebled old man? (Even the word enfeebled is painful.) Is he the victim of some sort of “Pandemic Power Play”? Is an entire nation being subjected to the consequences of such elder abuse? Is our President merely a puppet to further the personal gain of unnamed, unidentified power-hungry elitists? Again -- who is standing off camera to the right? Sometimes an open microphone even catches their voices seemingly herding him to leave the room. Why do we see so little of him? Scary.  “You can bet your (sweet) bippy” that such control seeking people would not be the ones to suffer in the long run.  Oh – this is beyond cringe worthy.  This is beyond wrong.  The thing is – we all get to watch and to wonder. That watching and waiting is, perhaps, the worst of it all. I am sensing that there will be more to come before this presidential term comes to an end. It is all very sad … tragic really when you can stand to even think about it. Cringe worthy moments indeed. They do tend to make you sick to your stomach… and in your heart.

 

This type of ugly is why I go into news blackouts from time to time.  It’s a matter of self-preservation. Then again – there is really no escape. Denial does have an end… in my experience anyway.

Moments in Time ...

 

Once again, I find myself “social distancing” from all the negativity of the so-called “news” programs – all of them. It is like I am caught in a loop. I watch for a while, drive myself nuts, and then pivot away to other things.  I already told you about the black and white movie compulsion.  Well – now I am focusing on brief adventures to moments of the past… sometimes bittersweet really -- poignant in the sense of touching and meaningful with a pinch, maybe, of sadness as they are, after all, moments that cannot be repeated – moments that only exist in memory. They are brief moments in time that pop into my head – unexpected thoughts and glimpses of memories even as far back 60+ years ago. They are not glimpses of milestones or of anything big – they are glimpses of small bits and pieces – moments that others might find to be totally inconsequential.  But … the little things/times are important as well – maybe more than we know. I have no idea why they appear unexpectedly, but it is nice somehow. I am thinking that everyone has these little gifts from time to time.  Hope so.

A few days ago, I was thinking about my Dad, and there it was.  I was about to turn 11.  Our family was in Idaho visiting with one of my Dad’s old Marine Corps buddies and his family, and we were all outside of their cabin in Ketchum – near Sun Valley.  We were walking though a mountainous area and it was hot, hot, hot.  My Dad stopped by a creek, knelt down and filled his cupped hands with cool mountain water and offered it to me to drink.  It was “dad-hands” water and never had water tasted better. It was a “Dad Kindness”.  It is a lovely memory.

Then I was reading a book a few days later about people being frightened on a small airplane and another glimpse appeared.  I was flying from Boston’s Logan Airport into a tiny airport in Vermont near the New Hampshire border. The airport in Vermont had no radar or way to help planes land other than lighted runways. You know – back in the day. (Not sure that was true, but that was a commonly held belief.) I was probably 19 or 20. It was a six-passenger plane – the kind with the propeller on the nose -- and men were holding it down on the tarmac when we boarded - I guess so that it didn’t blow away in the winter storm. I was one of two idiots on the plane + a pilot.  I guess the young man across the aisle could sense my fear as we bumped and dropped our way toward Moose Mountain, near Hanover, NH. Suddenly the young man reached across that aisle and offered his hand.  And so it was –no words, just two total strangers holding hands – thinking that at any moment buffeted and battered by the storm, we were going to plummet into a mountain and come to a fiery end together.  It was a “Stranger Kindness”.  I wish I had asked him his name. I wonder if he ever thinks of that moment.

Photographers are famous for catching these poignant moments. Some of the photographs have become famous -- immortalizing significant moments in history – like the New York Post published photo of the sailor kissing the nurse in Times Square on VJ Day.  But I think all people have these significant moments – probably too many to count – most are not caught on camera. Most are in our minds - not on the front page of newspapers or these days - caught in a short video on someone’s phone.  They are special moments in time throughout one’s life and ...  they come out to play once in a while.  Personally, I think they are wonderful. I hope all people have them and take the time to relish them. I think they are gifts -- sort of a mindfulness of the past.  These days we try so hard to be mindful of the world around us in every moment and of every single thing and every one in it, but the past has its draw as well. I guess what I am wondering is – is this type of flashback more prevalent in Boomers – you know -- age related…? Or – is it that we just have more time to focus on the bits and pieces that really count in a lifetime?

After effects...

 

A question for you. Do we all have concerns that we have placed on a mental shelf… somewhere safe where the concerns sit on the edge of consciousness swinging their feet just waiting to jump back into the light?  I think we do.  We put these concerns there thinking that we will think about them later… and we do… maybe just not when we want to think about them though. They leap down off the shelf at inopportune times.

Second question for you.  Remember when we thought that our parents or “experts” in general had it all figured out – concerns were sorted into their proper places?  We thought all questions had answers, that all problems had solutions.  We thought these older folks and experts for sure knew what they were doing. They had the answers and the solutions. We could count on them. They certainly acted like they knew things.  Well… “Not all the actors are in Hollywood.”  Everyone knows that. Now that we have become the older generation, we know the truth.  Scary, isn’t it?  I call this dilemma the “After Effects of Experience”.  That is kinder somehow than saying that sometimes old(er) people have learned some things along the way. Listen to them – even though they may not have a clue in a particular situation.  Unlike loving parents though, experts should never pretend that they know things that they really have no way of knowing. It’s misleading. Better to be above board and admit the truth.  Everything, in some ways, is an experiment – it is always survival of the fittest – like the plants I put in my garden – like the Science of recent days.

Now that the damncovid appears to be winding down (at least for now) and political upheaval has become a series of hums with just an occasional annoying off-key blat from trombones, maybe it is time to take a few things off that mental shelf. Maybe it is time to examine some of those After Effects of living through a pandemic. With that in mind, here are some After Effect questions I have heard and asked recently:

How long will we continue to hold our breath when someone hugs us?

How long will we avoid cramped spaces?

How long will we mentally look for a disinfectant wipe when someone shakes our hand? (This is what I call the Monk effect.)

How long will we think that maybe we should just stay home?

How long will it be before we learn the truth – the real truth - about this pandemic and… will we know it to be true when we hear it?

It’s funny, but it’s not. And it goes further.  I have talked to more than one person in recent days (several actually) who have decided to willingly agree to be a guinea pig – to receive a shot of one of the experimental drugs not as yet thoroughly tested or approved by the FDA - drugs that are touted as vaccines. It is in the back of their minds – perhaps on one of those shelves - that they are participating in a grand experiment – perhaps out of fear, but definitely with the hope that they are helping to end the spread of a deadly virus. They have willingly made a grand gesture. Yet – in the back of their minds is always the question of another whole kind of After Effect – the as yet to be discovered -- the ominous -- Side Effect(s).  There is an aura of uncertainty surrounding the whole process. For those participating, it’s a done deal – they now just wait to see what happens. The silent concern is the question of what that might be.  Perhaps this is why there is such a pressure to make every one in sight take the same risks. The push is on. It is comfort in numbers. Ohio even offers the incentive of a lottery.  It is fascinating to watch the incentives roll out… pressure upon pressure.

The entire world has shared this pandemic. We have been in this together for sure. No one likes to feel alone.  I understand that. There is, however the danger that this desire for everyone to join the team could evolve into a groupthink situation in which the desire for conformity results in the irrational. It makes me think of the double-masked individual wearing a laminated vaccine card hung around his/her neck or dividing seating areas into vaccinated or nonvaccinated. This “push” has a certain ugliness potential – its own unique After Effect. I just wish that people would not be so in your face about things... so divisive. Then again there always have been and are those among us who just like to yell at others. It makes them feel better. Perhaps the yelling quiets fears. Maybe we should take a closer look at that as well. 

Not everyone shares the same path of trying to journey on and through this pandemic tunnel – or life, for that matter.  Individual choice counts for something as well.  So does the right to make those choices.  Sometimes people have enough of their own After Effects to deal with; they don’t need the added burden of sharing the weight of others’ choices… or of others’ fears. “Covid fearful” is a real thing. It is all around us. It seeps into all the cracks. Here’s hoping that the loss of respect for others is not the ultimate After Effect. Wish I knew at least some of the answers to all these questions.  I don’t. I don’t even pretend that I do. The After Effects live on…. They often make me take a slow deep breath… then exhale even more slowly. A slow deep breath is calming.

It's only fair...

I was looking at some paintings and prints at The Village Friends Thrift Shop recently. They have some very interesting things there – and not just the paintings. The place is full of treasures. I am surprised that I don’t buy something every time I stop in there. I have to keep reminding myself that I already have too much stuff. Sometimes that works. The other thing about going there is that the people there are super nice. I so love nice people. Village Friends, as you may know, is an organization of volunteers who help senior citizens with all kinds of things from changing high up light bulbs and flipping mattresses to providing outings and very cool get-togethers.  It’s a lovely thing. Anyway – to get to the point…. Looking at the artwork there got me to thinking that, quite frankly, I have never been sure how to “appreciate” a painting… how to understand it.  You know – really “get it”.  I feel that way about “arty” photographs as well.  It just seems to come down to an unknown something that “speaks” to me.  I like it or... not so much. 

Portraits are my favorite type of painting.  Eyes, to me, are the key. It’s in eyes from which facial expression takes direction.  I think that is true in real life as well.  (I find blue eyes to be especially fascinating -- maybe because I grew up in a family of really dark brown eyes. When she was sitting across from me one time - a long time ago now, I noticed that looking at my daughter holding her two little kids on her lap was like looking into a small dish of large black olives. Actually that is still true at any gathering of the family. Lots of black olive eyes.) To go further though -- I like to try to figure out what eyes are saying. It’s a bit of a mystery to me…in paintings and in real life too. I saw the Mona Lisa once when it was on tour - never could understand her eyes. Still do not.

I do wish that I could paint (or sing, or both).  No luck with either of those things though.  I can’t dance either.  Took a ballet class one time at The Community Center… was one of two adults in the class. I think the instructor was a bit surprised to see any adults show up. (She was a kind soul.)  I looked on with envy at all the seven- and eight-year-olds leaping about and landing without so much as a sound – let alone a thud.  They were graceful feathers floating easily here and there. They were sprites. I am still amazed all these years later when I think about them. I, on the other hand,  was more of a wet bag landing on unset concrete.  Even so, the class was amazingly fun actually.  The other adult had a wonderful sense of humor. Good thing. 

Again – I wish that I could paint. "A picture is worth a thousand words." Maybe part of the secret is really a mindfulness in the way you look at things – catching all the fine detail.  When I was in college I did a few realistic paintings – one still hangs  -- in my bathroom. (Does that location tell you anything?) It is an enormous painting that looks and feels like a brick wall.  The finishing touch was the window I drew on it with chalk.  I like it even today - so many years later.  To me it speaks on levels and holds a few memories. The other foray into painting was a self-portrait I also painted while in that “suffering artist” phase.  My Mom, who actually was a painter, took one look at my creation, said she hated it and declared it to be awful. She put it in the back of a storage closet. Now for those of you who knew my Mom, you know that such a vehement response was unlike her.  It took me by surprise.  I never painted anything again unless you count interior walls. She actually covered it, a few years later, with acrylic gesso (several layers) and reused the canvas when she painted a still life of flowers in colors that matched my couch. What can I say?  So – I accept that I am not a painter.  It’s okay.  I can do other stuff. I am, for example, a whiz at acrostic  and logic puzzles and am relatively skilled in a variety of crafts – just give me a pattern I like and I am able to knit, crochet, macramé, cross stich, embroider, etc. My lasagna is impressive. Yep… It all counts.  Oh -- my handwriting is relatively easy to read and I am quite good at organizing things.  Now that is a handy talent and one that is easy to understand. Am thinking now -- I still have most of the artwork that my own kids did when they were little. I have an enormous amount of creations by my grandkids as well.  It is organized.

So -- still not a painter, I do try to appreciate “art”.  I have several pieces in my home... everything from wood carved treasures to signed and numbered prints and several of my Mom's paintings. Some of the art - like my hand carved trees -  is just standing around. Some is hung at my eye level so I can really take a close look at it from time to time. Other pieces are actually hung sort of at my knee level.  I hung them low when my local grandkids were little and have come to like them like that over the years.  You can see them when you are sitting down. I have become accustomed to things that way.  I am not moving anything.  Maybe someday I will have other little ones here who also deserve to take a look at art at their eye level. I think it is only fair. Little kids are in a perpetual state of looking up. It must be exhausting.

Old Stuff

 

The other day seemed like a good day to spend some time thinking about Big Foot, aka Sasquatch/Yeti/etc., but then I came across some good olde black and white movies on the Turner Classic Movie Channel. I adore b/w movies. I love b/w photos as well and am enjoying their return to popularity.  I have to tell you though – when she was little - my granddaughter used to think that there was a time when the world was black and white – this from her looking through my collection of old photos that were taken with my family’s Kodak Brownie. Some of the pics were developed on paper that was scalloped on the edges. Remember those?  I discovered this belief of hers when she used the phrase, “You know, Nanny, ... back when the world was black and white”.  We laugh about it today – sort of a Wizard of Ox comment really.  I can see why she thought that. Makes sense to me. I still find it to be a remarkable thought and comment for a wee one. Then again – she is a remarkable kid.

Back to the b/w movies.  I have to mention that people seemed to be, on the whole, much thinner back then. Many of the women enjoyed the freedom of the braless and men were inclined to wear more goopy stuff in their hair. (No wonder there were so many doilies on the backs of chairs in those days.) Both men and women wore rather impressive hats. Smoking cigarettes and cigars was common place. The cars were enormous and actually had leg room in the back seat. Nylon stockings had seams. Ah the good olde days. Yes – I am old enough to remember when paper bags were blamed for the destruction of trees and plastic bags were touted as the solution. (Thank you to the person who thought of that last sentence. I just changed one word to “touted” … it’s so perfect in the way it suggests aggressiveness and pestering. I find that there are a lot of things being "touted" these days. I am sort of sick of it.)

Anyway – all of this got me to thinking about old stuff and I, shortly after that (for some unknown reason), came across some old advertising catch phrases or labels that I just simply must share with you. I am sort of repurposing them here.

 

Nico Cigarettes: The smooth taste expectant mothers crave!

No flies on me …. Thanks to DDT.

The Bayer Co., LTD: Compressed Tablets – Heroin Hydrochloride

Let this magic mineral, ASBESTOS, protect the buildings on your farm!

Always trust Science.

 

Now the Nico ad has been found to be fake, but….  The ad for DDT is real – an ad for the Black Flag Company. I checked on the Bayer Company ad to discover that they did produce the heroin hydrochloride elixir as a cough suppressant -- with most unhappy side effects -- as I am sure you would suspect. (This was at least a century ago. Hopefully drug companies are doing better today. Many are counting on it - even betting their lives on it.) The Asbestos ad is also real – an ad used by the Johns Manville company – a manufacturer of insulation and roofing materials.

The world does change, and hopefully improve, but then thinking about some of the side effects of medicines of our age and especially looking at the last phrase – “Trust the Science” … well…. Quite frankly -- I cannot keep up with the incessant mutability of Science these days. I sometimes wonder if Science is worthy of capitalization.  It is hard to “keep the faith, baby…”  I find myself thinking that in some ways the more things change, the more they stay the same.  I also wonder if anyone believed any of those advertising claims back then. I am thinking they did. I think that people do want to trust. It’s just so hard sometimes. It is becoming harder and harder. “Everyone lies” comes to mind.

To take this one step further.  I guess the question this brings to mind today is: “Who checks the fact checkers?” It seems like every day things thought to be untrue are being revealed as true after taking a harder look – you know … on closer investigation.  To make things even more complicated, the reverse is also true. Again – “Who checks the fact checkers?”  Can we trust them?  This matters most of the time. I so want to be able to trust.

Perhaps there is a reason why I love to escape to old b/w movies. I love when the world “seemed” black and white. Shades of gray complicate things. So do lies.  

Popcorn anyone?

Never been a fan of change....

 

I have never been a fan of change.  Seriously -- I had to be dragged kicking and screaming into the world of direct distance dialing, cable TV, microwaves and VHS, let alone all the other things that seemed to come into being within seconds of one another.  Purchasing a PC almost put me into a state of mindless blithering. The Internet was a concept I simply could not grasp because no one could tell me where it was or what it looked like. (I still try to picture it.) Then there were the cell phone, WIFI and the repeated conversations with my children on whether or not I would text.  I didn’t see the value or potential in any of those things – at the time.  Now, of course, I can’t live without them and more new-fangled things as well. I have a self-starting generator that is able to and has run everything in my entire house. I store photographs on a cloud somewhere out there in the land of things I cannot put in a box. There is progress and … it is a very good thing I can laugh at myself.

On a more serious note --the past year and a half have been difficult for me even though my day-to-day life has not changed that drastically.  I am thinking that I am not alone in this.  In fact, I have had conversations with others important in my life about the feeling of being a bit off balance -- maybe, ironically, especially so now that the world is beginning to open up again in baby steps and all people begin to reenter a world that has forever been changed.  Always a homebody, I now am a bit agoraphobic. Not kidding.  I like to be home. Never a fan of driving anywhere, I have to make myself go places – always having a good time once I am there, but always ready to come home. It is comforting to listen to other people talk about similar experiences and about how interpersonal relationships with others – even family and friends -- have taken on new dimensions. We have a lot of adjusting to do for sure. I am writing this in case you are feeling alone in having such feelings.  You are not alone.

In 2001, America was stunned by 9-11 – an outright attack on our country. It changed things for all Americans in too many ways to name. Whether or not this pandemic will turn out to be an outright attack on the entire world or a devastating accident – I do not know. All I know is that it has brought change across the entire planet. With that change comes uncertainty and all the scary thoughts and questions that come with that.

At the same time, it is important to remember, though, that not all changes are so all encompassing – even though we share similar experiences with others.  We just don’t all go through these changes at the same time.  These more private changes are, perhaps, the most difficult to maneuver.  At times, and this has happened to each of us, something happens – in one moment perhaps – and Nothing is as it was before.  Nothing. Everything is changed -- forever. Suddenly you find yourself in a different world, and yet the rest of the world moves on as if nothing has happened. It’s surreal.  It is doubly hard when people have this kind of change in the middle of a pandemic.  I think this is why the world craves the feel-good story – the tale of a random act of kindness. I know that I am trying to hang on to those. I am grateful for them. Am thinking that you are too. Thank you for your positive response to last week’s Blog – "The Birthday Cake". Your kind words are a gift. You are a gift. That is one thing that will never change.