Collections

A good friend of mine returned from a trip to family in Minnesota. While there, the matriarch, who is 92, pulled all the gals into her room and started to hand out something clearly precious to her-

her old dresses.

As she pulled them out, she remembered where she bought them and why- a special affair or party. It made for great storytelling.

Not really dresses anyone would want to wear in this day and age, but that wasn't the point. I doubt seriously she was aware she was getting rid of a collection she'd kept for years without thought.

When you collect all things penguin- my mother had so many different penguin things in her house it was hysterical- you do so intentionally. Everyone knows you have those things and adds to it over time.

And some people have collections they are not aware of- like old dresses.

Immediately, I thought of Jeanine and all her precious computers. She will be handing them out, at 92, with instructions and a promise to hand them back if they are not wanted.

Me? I have cookbooks galore. I know when each one was bought, what time of life it was for me, like The 30 Minute Menu, which I bought while working in the corporate world. Of course, I have a Moosewood Cookbook, bought at the same time I bought my first Cris Williamson record.

Another friend mentioned ancient marijuana smoking devices, along with books and records. Probably vinyl which will be utterly useless then.

I'm curious... do you have a collection you aren't aware of having but could see yourself handing out when your old? With stories to tell about each piece?

Saltines

It is funny what evokes a long ago image. An instant of flavor, or smell or the way the sun is setting in the sky. It's never expected, and as I have learned in the last few years, sometimes welcomed, sometimes not.

Yesterday, it was the saltine crackers Ben pulled out.

I haven't had saltines since I was pregnant. Miserable, nauseous, I chipped away at saltines while wetting my lips with Ginger Ale. It was one of the few times in my life food was absolutely the last thing I wanted to be around.

I remember being in my office at the software company with those crackers and getting a phone call from a woman who was looking to start a support group for pregnant lesbians. My name had been given as a contact, something I did not remember signing up for.

It was the beginning of the moms group I hold as my family today. Thirteen years and ten kids later, we're still at it.

I remember my mother and how she would make careful little sandwiches with saltines. She'd spread peanut butter on one cracker, jelly on another and hand them to me to press together.

The jelly oozed out of the tiny holes signaling the perfect pressure. The extra salt on the cracker made it ever so slightly a savory snack rather than sweet. Finger sandwiches for the seven and under set, although she always had a few herself.

A simple box of Saltines on a hot day when having your mind move from one image to the next is enough to break a sweat.