Found while cleaning a closet — a pink plastic rectangle, stamped: THEO. LIPPMAN-STATEWIDE INSURANCE. Inside is an intricately folded plastic rain bonnet, something a woman could carry in her purse in the event of an unexpected shower.
We had dozens of these once upon a time, although I’m not sure if I ever used one for its intended purpose. We also had my grandfather’s business stationery, which we used for drawing paper. I still have five or six pieces, yellowed now, although the distinctive red umbrella of The Travelers Insurance Companies still seems bright as ever. And although I’m increasingly anti-clutter — and, therefore, increasingly less sentimental about what I keep — I can’t imagine discarding this paper I will never use or this rain bonnet I will never wear.
What do you keep for purely sentimental reasons?
I used to keep a lot more than I do now. I have had to be ruthless with myself or rent a storage shed and I can’t really justify that. So on my book shelves where I keep the books which I’ve read and can’t bear to part with, (so books are among the things I keep), I also have a movie stub from an outing I really loved and a program from a concert that I went to with a good friend to see/hear my favorite violin player, Nadja Solerno Sonnenberg at the Pacific Arts Center here in Anchorage. People who on occasion come in to do some work for me are always trying to throw the movie stub away. <shaking head>
A room key from the <A href=”http://www.deathvalleyphoto.com/bw/pages/Amargosa%20Opera%20House.htm”>Amargosa Motor Hotel and Opera House</a>. I didn’t mean to steal it.
Green luggage tags from Selawik, Alaska. <a href=”http://www.woollymammoth.com/keith/writing/7_01.html”>Authors To The Bush, 2001</a>. Four-seater flight.
One grungy white glove (knit, cheap, salmon-stained) from Seahawk Seafoods. Valdez, Alaska, 1985.
A stack of Bill Cosby LPs that I’ve had since the 6th grade and can’t play. I sold WHY IS THERE AIR at a moving sale when we relocated from L.A. to New York and instantly regretted it so much that I took the other Cosby records off the table.
Lots of stuff. Three come to mind.
A reproduction of El Greco’s “View of Toledo” on oilcloth nailed to a frame that makes it look like canvas. I bought it for a couple of bucks from the Marlboro Bookstore (a clearance item)in my freshman year in college in 1957. It still hangs in my office.
A clipboard page from a YMCA basketball game that I coached. My team had two kids that could reasonably be called “players,” and we came into the last game without a win, but we beat the “ringer” team that had several kids who could touch the rim. The page, badly yellowed and fragile, is a score-by-score tally and lineups to make sure everybody played an equal number of minutes.
An unsent letter pouring out my affection for my great love in the 3rd grade.
My whole house. I can’t give up anything.
Jeanne
A bunch of stuff of my dad’s; his watch, a lot of anniversary AA tokens of his. A strange litte plastic and metal thing that i think is a piece from a helicopter that ended up on his coffee table; it looks like a cute little robot. I just have to figure out how to turn it on. Programs from performances I appeared in back in high school. Letters – not too many but ones informing me of something wonderful. Tee-shirts that no longer fit but are souvenirs of major concerts, political actions I took part in. A beanbag ladybug that my mom bought me; when I had my first back surgery, I woke up, looked at it, picked it up and flopped it on my chest, and wham , back to sleep. It’s followed me all over the place for 30 years. Ditto a Raggedy Ann (I did not have one as a kid, got this one after seeing a display of them at the US pavilion I think at Expo 67?) when I left for college, got mom one to keep her company. Also a Misha bear – the 1980 Mascot from the boycotted Olympics. Cutest damn thing.
A mud pony my daughter Kelly (now 38) made in first grade, a framed picture of a cat my daughter Sharon (now 41) bought me with her first ‘Christmas’ money, and a figure of an elephant my son Pat (now 45) gave me when he got his first paycheck as a teenager. And and a silver fox charm from the charm bracelet I began for my mother a few years before she died. I used to call her ‘the silver fox’.
When I was in kindergarten it was a tradition for our French teacher to take a day and teach us how to make these happy face dolls. My brother, who is two years older than me and went to the same school, took home one with orange legs and a big happy smile. Mine has purple legs. His ended up (not sure how) being named “Mr. Happy Face” while mine was “Happy Man.” I take Happy Man wherever I go because sometimes it’s good to see a permanently happy figure, especially when I’m in need of serious cheering up.