I noticed the bowl had been put in a pile ready to take to the recycling centre, and felt a surge of quite primitive panic, as if something precious was about to be lost.
I love this, Peter. For me, too, objects are like songs, in that both can take you back to places and times, and to painful or beloved memories, in a heartbeat, and as effectively as photos. I also enjoy the research angle, and how discovering snippets of information about the object can lead to new revelations about one's life or the people in one's life...
Thank you, Jess. I started this thinking of writing about objects of particular family value, like the oak chest, the art deco vase, Elizabeth's father's bible, the stories of which would be lost if we didn’t tell it. Now I find there is also meaning in the broken picnic bowl, the restored chisel. So encouraged by your response!
I love this, Peter. For me, too, objects are like songs, in that both can take you back to places and times, and to painful or beloved memories, in a heartbeat, and as effectively as photos. I also enjoy the research angle, and how discovering snippets of information about the object can lead to new revelations about one's life or the people in one's life...
Thank you, Jess. I started this thinking of writing about objects of particular family value, like the oak chest, the art deco vase, Elizabeth's father's bible, the stories of which would be lost if we didn’t tell it. Now I find there is also meaning in the broken picnic bowl, the restored chisel. So encouraged by your response!