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I am interested in the various ways the human
spirit finds to express itself. Creativity is the
expression of deep emotion from the wordless place.
The place where a part of self becomes filled up;
comforted, joyous and satisfied.
In my world of creative expression, painting
and writing have become the avenue of choice. Another
way I express myself is by collecting memorabilia.
Things that to others might not have emotional meaning
but for me, if they were taken away, would be remembered
with sadness and longing.
I save things, all kinds of things, from ticket
stubs to rocks, dried flowers, shells, you name
it, I save it.
Even when I try to throw things away they stick
to my fingers like flypaper and I can barely let
go. Sometimes, I must confess, I can't. I might
have the courage to take some old loved object to
the trash only to retrieve it hours later, in what
feels like a guilty moment of exquisite pleasure.
I come from a family of collectors. I remember
many warm summer days at auctions with my parents.
They brought home boxes of stuff owned by others.
My father marveled over used books, tintype pictures
of strangers and baskets of crochet doilies; items
without much useful purpose but still meaningful,
especially to my father. I remember him holding
a book in the palm of his hand and wondering out
loud about the man before him that had held the
same book. He would check it for handwriting, signatures
and scribbles in the edges of the pages - making
the experience of holding the book a rich experience.
My grandmother saved buttons. She kept them in
a big hat box in the corner of her parlor. I loved
that box of buttons and spent hours quietly sorting,
looking into, and separating out the beautiful fastenings
that held my grandmother's history together. I am
sure she sewed a fair share onto shirts, although
I don't remember any missing from the box.
The color, texture, shine and coolness of my grandmother's
spoke to my imagination.
As I grew older I learned that those buttons talked
to my grandmother in a different way. She told me
the stories of each of them, the dark blue ones
with the anchors once held her brothers pee jacket
closed on windy days at sea during the First World
War. The tiny pearl buttons lined the sleeves of
my grandmother's wedding dress and the tiny pink
flat ones were from my mother's first sweater that
she wore as a baby.
My favorite buttons were dark purple bobbles that
looked like bunches of grapes tied together with
a white ribbon. They decorated the costume that
my cousin Iris wore in her high school play. My
grandmother would shake her head and say "poor
Iris" and then tell the story of her longing
to be an actress, falling in love and not quite
making it to Broadway. I never knew Iris but her
story was so romantic that I felt as if I knew her.
There seemed to be buttons that represented all
the members of her family, including me. She would
hold up two silver buttons that were left over from
a dress she made for me to wear to my first dance,
"remember they are right here dear in case
you need them."
The dress was so well made; the buttons sewed on
so lovingly that I never did need the extras.
Over the years those buttons became game pieces,
projectiles that my cousin and I thew at one another,
little people in the world of let's pretend, kite
anchors, bracelets and one even ended up in a baby's
nose. In the end they mostly ended up back in my
grandmother's hatbox.
When my grandmother died her hatbox of buttons
vanished with her but the button stories stayed
and are now part of me. I never did start my own
button collection although I understand why my grandmother
cherished hers. It wasn't the buttons but the memories
attached to them that made the collection of family
buttons an unforgettable experience.
This essay is dedicated to all those who have
experienced the loss of cherished things. Losses
that on the surface appear to be usual, barely understood
by others. In reality they are the precious and
irreplaceable spiritual expressions. "Soul
Songs" that continue to be sung in the inner
place of forever.
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