At first glance it is nothing special: a modest Victorian table, worn and a little scarred, made in a factory to be one of many. Look longer, and it will tell you where it has been. It’s About to Start a New Journey At this moment, it stands in
Three wooden figurines. A bearded man with a cross-topped staff in one hand, a seashell in the other. A woman in a blue cloak, with a mannish face, holding nothing at all. And a dark-skinned man in a black-and-white habit, holding a broom. They began their
It is an ordinary Wednesday afternoon, and Robert is talking about a fountain pen. In speaking with Robert, one senses that he is usually a reserved individual, not prone to exuberance — but this item is clearly a source of enthusiasm. Some might look at Robert’s pen and blandly comment
Some objects announce themselves. They arrive with hallmarks, with maker’s stamps pressed into brass, with palette-shaped labels that promise, however falsely, a name. This is not one of those objects. It is “just” a potholder. The Potholder It is a square of quilted cotton, a scant 5-1/
Amy has had the mug for more than sixty years. It has a boxer on it: a fawn dog with cropped ears and a black mask, the word BOXER printed beneath him in small capitals. No one in her family was especially fond of dogs. The mug came to Amy
On humble objects, deep time, and the breath of the people we have loved. It is odd to think that a humble duck call is, technically, a woodwind instrument. You will not find one in an orchestra, nor is there sheet music composed for it — no Song of the Duck
Even humble objects have their own histories. This story is about an ashtray. It is not an antique. It’s not a museum quality artifact — nothing here for the velvet cushion. Nor is it a piece that would interest an auction house. It has no particularly significant intrinsic value. Yet,