For some reason, I love small metallic objects. The more dense and heavy in my hand, the better. This extends to jewelry and watches, which you know I have always been obsessed with. I always attach meaning to a piece of jewelry I love, and to me it's almost more about the story of the piece - where I got it, how I was feeling at the time, what it signifies - than the look of it. Anyway, here are some metallic objects having to do with you:
1. When I was in Junior High School, dog tags were a huge trend. Stores at the mall sold them and you could get whatever you wanted engraved on them. But, I had the real thing - I had your dog tags from the army. Do you know how cool that was? I wore them every day.
After you died, I became absolutely panicked that I had lost your dog tags and that they were gone forever. Because of my attachment to all things small and metallic, I was really, really focused on having them, and I couldn't remember seeing them in ages. Luckily, I found them in a drawer of yours. I worried that I would have to fight Megan and Marc for them, but neither of them were particularly interested (they are obviously crazy, as these are the greatest treasure). Here they are, one of them has glitter on it from a Halloween costume I wore 20 years ago...
2. This pencil sharpener was one of the things I took from your office. It's so heavy!! I love it. Did you actually use pencils? Why did you need such a robust 30 pound pencil sharpener? It's utterly absurd, and totally awesome.
3. These two little metal cats also came from your office and are satisfyingly dense and heavy.
4. Another item from your office. No one really wanted this bizarre miniature brass tennis racket, but I absolutely could not bear to see it thrown away (you know how I am), and so I took it. And I will treasure it.
5. You and I shared a love of nice pens. You took me to buy my first nice pen when I was a kid - actually a pen and pencil set - made by Cross. I must have had $100 saved up or something, and that's what I wanted to buy. You were patient while I spent hours looking at every single pen in the store before I made my decision. This Cross pen and stand came from your office as well. The pen is similar to that first one I bought, but gold rather than silver. (You also had a really nice Waterman pen in your office, which Marc took, and which I want...)
6. The day after you died was Christmas Eve. Megan and I went on a walk in town and stopped in Ecolin, the jewelry store in Port Jeff. People were shopping for last minute Christmas presents, and Megan and I went around looking at everything we wanted and couldn't afford. We both find comfort in jewelry. The saleswoman asked if we were sisters, and said she could tell by the way we spoke to each other.
I found this ring, which is not something I would normally pick out. But I wanted a talisman, something that could function as your memorial ring. This ring is heavy, and it sort of looks like a shield. I thought the shield aspect was something I could use, some protection from the misery surrounding us.
If you'd been around when I came home that day, I would have said "look what I got" and then put out my hand. You would have inspected the ring with your reading glasses on and come away with the declaration that it was "very nice." This is a good ring for fidgeting with, it's large and easy to clutch. You would tell me to stop fidgeting, if you were here. Anyway, I always think of you when I wear it.
7. This is my watch, which of course you know. You took me to buy my very first watch - a dark blue one with fish on it - when we were in the Virgin Islands when I was in elementary school. This watch is one I got about 8 or 9 years ago, a vintage piece I found in a tiny store in the West Village. It's always held huge value to me, more than any other item I own. On the day that Owen my cat (or "little fat boy," as you called him) died, the battery died and my watch stopped.
On the day that you died, the watch stopped again. The battery wasn't dead, though, it was relatively new. And a few days later it started up again, but it keeps stopping. It's not keeping accurate time anymore either. I need to bring it to get fixed, it needs more work than just a new battery. It sounds absurd, and I'm hesitant to say it lest I sound crazy, but this watch knows when something is wrong. It stops time when it feels like time has stopped.
8. This is a small knife from your office. I almost cut my finger off trying to close it. Marc, Megan, and Mom only let me take it when I agreed never to open it again. What were you doing with this unsafe instrument!?
9. When your father died, you found this box in his apartment and gave it to me. It houses a nice silver pen. Your note (written on a yellow post-it, per usual) said "add it to your collection."
1. When I was in Junior High School, dog tags were a huge trend. Stores at the mall sold them and you could get whatever you wanted engraved on them. But, I had the real thing - I had your dog tags from the army. Do you know how cool that was? I wore them every day.
After you died, I became absolutely panicked that I had lost your dog tags and that they were gone forever. Because of my attachment to all things small and metallic, I was really, really focused on having them, and I couldn't remember seeing them in ages. Luckily, I found them in a drawer of yours. I worried that I would have to fight Megan and Marc for them, but neither of them were particularly interested (they are obviously crazy, as these are the greatest treasure). Here they are, one of them has glitter on it from a Halloween costume I wore 20 years ago...
2. This pencil sharpener was one of the things I took from your office. It's so heavy!! I love it. Did you actually use pencils? Why did you need such a robust 30 pound pencil sharpener? It's utterly absurd, and totally awesome.
3. These two little metal cats also came from your office and are satisfyingly dense and heavy.
4. Another item from your office. No one really wanted this bizarre miniature brass tennis racket, but I absolutely could not bear to see it thrown away (you know how I am), and so I took it. And I will treasure it.
5. You and I shared a love of nice pens. You took me to buy my first nice pen when I was a kid - actually a pen and pencil set - made by Cross. I must have had $100 saved up or something, and that's what I wanted to buy. You were patient while I spent hours looking at every single pen in the store before I made my decision. This Cross pen and stand came from your office as well. The pen is similar to that first one I bought, but gold rather than silver. (You also had a really nice Waterman pen in your office, which Marc took, and which I want...)
6. The day after you died was Christmas Eve. Megan and I went on a walk in town and stopped in Ecolin, the jewelry store in Port Jeff. People were shopping for last minute Christmas presents, and Megan and I went around looking at everything we wanted and couldn't afford. We both find comfort in jewelry. The saleswoman asked if we were sisters, and said she could tell by the way we spoke to each other.
I found this ring, which is not something I would normally pick out. But I wanted a talisman, something that could function as your memorial ring. This ring is heavy, and it sort of looks like a shield. I thought the shield aspect was something I could use, some protection from the misery surrounding us.
If you'd been around when I came home that day, I would have said "look what I got" and then put out my hand. You would have inspected the ring with your reading glasses on and come away with the declaration that it was "very nice." This is a good ring for fidgeting with, it's large and easy to clutch. You would tell me to stop fidgeting, if you were here. Anyway, I always think of you when I wear it.
7. This is my watch, which of course you know. You took me to buy my very first watch - a dark blue one with fish on it - when we were in the Virgin Islands when I was in elementary school. This watch is one I got about 8 or 9 years ago, a vintage piece I found in a tiny store in the West Village. It's always held huge value to me, more than any other item I own. On the day that Owen my cat (or "little fat boy," as you called him) died, the battery died and my watch stopped.
On the day that you died, the watch stopped again. The battery wasn't dead, though, it was relatively new. And a few days later it started up again, but it keeps stopping. It's not keeping accurate time anymore either. I need to bring it to get fixed, it needs more work than just a new battery. It sounds absurd, and I'm hesitant to say it lest I sound crazy, but this watch knows when something is wrong. It stops time when it feels like time has stopped.
8. This is a small knife from your office. I almost cut my finger off trying to close it. Marc, Megan, and Mom only let me take it when I agreed never to open it again. What were you doing with this unsafe instrument!?
9. When your father died, you found this box in his apartment and gave it to me. It houses a nice silver pen. Your note (written on a yellow post-it, per usual) said "add it to your collection."
xx a
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