When I was 15 I got a one day a week job babysitting for Debo. Dylan was only 6 months old. I watched him weekly so she could have a break, and make art. When I was 20 years old we parted ways. Then one day she called, they were traveling through. When they arrived Dylan was over 6 feet tall and seventeen years old. Debo looked exactly the same. She was knitting these creatures, and Piggle was one of them. I think the fact that objects don't age and look pretty much the same even ten years later gives them a certain appeal. But I think the same can be said of a boy you know when he is a baby, when he's seventeen and you haven't seen him for a dozen years something is still exactly the same.
A few years ago, I visited a foreign country with my family on vacation. There, I fell in love with a boy, my first love. We had the most wonderful two days together just the two of us on a secluded beach. Every time I look at the sand, I think of how much I still miss him and the time we used to share. I'm a boy.
I like this photo - it's a small world composed of potatoes and an onion, likely something I set up to combat winter blues. If I were to classify these objects, I would put them under the category of 'comfort objects' -- places of minute escapism where one can turn to when one needs escape.
In this case, you'd escape down to the tropical jungle yam amid an asteroid forest of red potatoes. On the outskirts lives a medusa-like red onion.
It's a whole decaying eco-system, complete with a sexy, plastic Amazon-warrior.
After she died, we found that the bookcase was two layers deep. Behind the mystery novels in front was a hidden cache of books on Buddhism. None of us had realized her interest was so deep.
She had asked my grandfather to buy her this Buddha as a present, many years ago, and she wore it every day. She was brilliant, funny, and still sharp at 96. I asked her about the Buddha; she told me about the gift, but not the books, not the interest. She was still going weekly to the synagogue to help them bake for the after-service kiddush (bread-breaking; a snack, basically) until her 94th year.
When she died, I asked for the Buddha as a memory. I didn't think I'd wear it every day, at first, but I found I couldn't bear to start my day without it. It's been a couple of years now. Wherever I go, people comment on it and I tell them about my grandmother and her secret.
This is object is meaningful to me because I got it from a zoo in Japan when I was traveling with my dad. I don't get to spend very much time with him in general, so it's kind of a symbol of a time we were together and happy.
We raised Shetland ponies on a farm when I was growing up and this photo is of Harry, the first pony I was in charge of raising by myself. He was stubborn but really funny, and I miss him now that he's gone. I keep the photo above the sink in the bathroom.