Wednesday, September 27, 2006

Closet Treasure




Every time my mother is “dying,” she calls me to come and get another bunch of mementoes. I’m the oldest child, and she doesn’t want these items to “end up in the wrong hands.”

I have my great-aunt’s mantel clock – and my grandfather’s pocket watch. The watch, with its original fob, still keeps perfect time, and I keep it wound because I love the sound of it ticking. I find it very comforting.

I also have my grandmother’s wedding ring and my late sister’s engagement ring. I wear the wedding ring every day along with my own. It’s become something of a golden talisman; I won’t leave home without it. I somehow feel like Grandma’s watching over me as long as I have it on. That’s silly, I know, but I do it anyway.

I have some letters written home by soldiers during the Civil War. Those, I’ve taken great pains to preserve. They’re priceless, and they’ll be handed down to my son someday.

Wrapped in plastic in a box in the spare room closet is the doll my grandmother played with as a little girl. If anyone besides Grandma ever knew the doll’s name, it’s long forgotten now. The doll has a stuffed cloth body and a china face, hands, and feet. I keep her in the closet because, I’m sorry, that painted china face just creeps me out for some reason. I have to keep her, though. She’s been entrusted to me for safekeeping and you can’t just throw out something that old and sentimental.

I have a square of lace made by my great-grandmother, and a pillowcase she embroidered. I don’t use them, of course. They’re also encased in plastic.

Oh, and I have a button-up shoe that also creeps me out, also in the closet. It was dug up on the family homeplace sometime in the 1920s, probably having been discarded and plowed over sometime in the 19th century.

There are other miscellaneous papers and pieces of jewelry, old books and dishes and silverware, handmade quilts, etc. All of it, in the closet(s). I’m eventually going to need a bigger house just to store all this memorabilia.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
I’ve already thrown the cuffs on these Words Gone Bad this morning:

It wouild help - Pretty much anything would help out in this situation. I wou ild, too.

Mumbel - Bryant Gumbel's inarticulate cousin.

We did went - Woo-hoo! I done go, too.

Mayham - Pork product produced in between April and June.

And Deputy Roxan nabbed these:

fring - The name for extramarital affairs indulged in by those with speech impediments, as in "Rinda ruvs Ramar and had a fring rith him."

famouse - A rich and pampered rat. When they get this famous, of course, you need to shoo them on out of the way -- vamoose!

soem - A poem which is actually a pretty bad sonnet.

featiring - Weary of performing superhero duties. When Superman, for example, tires of his feats, he'll just slink off and featire.

7 comments:

Anonymous said...

The real problem is your son's when you start your weekly "I'm dying" and start loading him up with all of that stuff plus yours.

Serena said...

I'm never dying and I'm giving it to him, anyway. Problem solved.:)

Psst -- what's a klqpok?

Anonymous said...

Klingon pork

Serena said...

Do Klingons eat pork? There's way too much pork in the world if you ask me. Yzgqh!

Anonymous said...

Sounds like nice stuff. The doll's name is Frieda, btw.

One of my ex's has a civil war letter written from a yankee prison in berry juice. The only time it's readable is when berries are in season, and the ink rises on the page.

Serena said...

Frieda? Hmmm. Could well have been. Never heard of that rising berry ink phenomenon before. Interesting concept, limitless possibilities...

thewriterslife said...

I save everything...my packed attic will attest to that. My daughter was given her grandmother's ring when she died...she never leaves home without it. It's the sentimental stuff that's the best.