Six Things

I recently read a statement that talked about how materialistic our world has become, which is nothing new. However, it posed an interesting question: if you could keep only six items and would have to discard or give away the rest, what would those six items be? Granted, the items can’t be people, though pets are okay. The items can be big or small. So, I pose the question to you – what would your six items be? Here are mine in no particular order or priority:

My mother’s doll. She is life-size, about the same height as a toddler, with an angelic bisque face, blue glass eyes, and a human hair wig; her arms and legs move. My grandparents gave her to my mother when she was around seven years old, approximately 1930. I haven’t been able to ascertain her exact age but have found similar dolls made by the same German doll manufacturer between 1910 and 1920. She’s an antique in pristine condition because my mother took impeccable care of her. When I inherited her, I took on the responsibility of caring for her the way my mother did. She is irreplaceable.

I am a quilter. And while I don’t absolutely have to own a sewing machine to make my quilts, it sure does come in handy and makes the process faster. The very first quilt I made I sewed entirely by hand, from cutting all the pieces with scissors to hand sewing them together, to the final quilting, because I didn’t own a machine. I was making it for my sister’s firstborn. Though I started with what I thought was plenty of time to spare, he was six months old by the time I finished, and I worked on it every day! After that, my mother gave me her machine that had not been used in 24 years. While I now own a 1951 Singer Featherweight named after my great-great-grandmother Fluretta, and a spiffy Juki that can do all sorts of nifty things, if I had to choose only one, it would be Fluretta. 

My house. Yes, my house. It’s not the fanciest house in town nor is it new, and that’s one of the many things I like about it. I like older houses not just because they’re sturdy and well-built; they hold the collective spirits of those who lived in them before me. Older houses have soul. I’m not talking about ghosts, though I have lived in a house with a ghost. That one had a ghost of a teenage girl who pulled shenanigans like bending keys and opening locked sashed windows, allowing wind and debris from nearby trees to blow into rooms. I guess she thought it was funny; I didn’t. She could be really annoying. I had to yell at her a few times and she would stop for a bit, then return to her prankish ways. I supposed she was bored. The house I live in now has had many owners going back 70 years to when it was built. I felt their presence as soon as we moved in. Nothing like the teenage girl, thank goodness. The previous owners of this house were happy here, that much is apparent. I suppose what I love most about an old home is that it has been lived in, and every part of the house exudes a part of the people before me. Strange as this sounds, it’s as though the previous folks left a soul mark on the house. It’s a place that was loved and is what gives an old house its heart and character, something missing in new homes. 

Now I’m going to cheat a bit – it’s not one thing but a grouping of photos I would never want to be without. We have a long hallway that we covered in framed family photos, many going back to the 19th century and others as recently as the early 21st century. Each time I walk down the hallway, I glance at the photos, and often stop and look at my parents smiling into the camera on their 1947 wedding day, or my Nana at age 20 shyly looking into the camera donning a flapper dress and bob hairstyle, a secretive smile crossing her lips, or my great-grandfather standing stoic in his military uniform. These are my people. I wouldn’t want to be without them.   

And finally, my last two: my darling miniature schnauzer/yorkie dog named Mensch and my sleek black cat named Simcha. They are my little loves and while I could probably live without them, I wouldn’t want to. They make me smile, and laugh, and make me feel loved beyond the stars. Some days I question what I did to deserve these little beings.