virtual memorials for inanimate objects
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Several Fine Cotton Lace Doilies, Runners, etc.
I had been married to a very abusive man. In desperation to get away from his abuse, I accepted a job miles away, whereupon I began to realize he was terribly abusive. I decided to divorce him, and though I'd trusted him with my belongings, I returned to NY, shocked to find he'd carelessly tossed everything I owned into two outdoor storage sheds. Most of it was damaged beyond repair.
Amongst the devastation of losing so many irreplaceable things, such as knitting patterns which are now long out of print, no matter how hard I searched, I never found my doilies and runners. These doilies and runners had been gifts from my Grandma to me. She'd crocheted them long before I was born, and when I'd complimented her gorgeous work, she took them right off of her furniture and gave them to me. Just like that. I'm not a doily/runner person, but I cherished this beautiful, fine work, wrought by my loving Grandma's patient hands, and planned to someday display these pieces in my home.
I never got the chance. To this day, I have no idea where they went. My wonderful Grandma is no longer with us, so I can't ask her to make anything else for me. And I can't buy something from a garage sale - no other doilies or runners would be the same, anyway.
Last seen in Peekskill, NY, 1992
Melanie, Illinois
I had been married to a very abusive man. In desperation to get away from his abuse, I accepted a job miles away, whereupon I began to realize he was terribly abusive. I decided to divorce him, and though I'd trusted him with my belongings, I returned to NY, shocked to find he'd carelessly tossed everything I owned into two outdoor storage sheds. Most of it was damaged beyond repair.
Amongst the devastation of losing so many irreplaceable things, such as knitting patterns which are now long out of print, no matter how hard I searched, I never found my doilies and runners. These doilies and runners had been gifts from my Grandma to me. She'd crocheted them long before I was born, and when I'd complimented her gorgeous work, she took them right off of her furniture and gave them to me. Just like that. I'm not a doily/runner person, but I cherished this beautiful, fine work, wrought by my loving Grandma's patient hands, and planned to someday display these pieces in my home.
I never got the chance. To this day, I have no idea where they went. My wonderful Grandma is no longer with us, so I can't ask her to make anything else for me. And I can't buy something from a garage sale - no other doilies or runners would be the same, anyway.
Last seen in Peekskill, NY, 1992
Melanie, Illinois
Labels: craft, family, move, relationships, separation
¶ 11:05 AM 0 Comments Links to this post
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Giant Pencil Drawing of Me
In my late teens, I lived with a man in his thirties who was very abusive toward me. He had his charming and romantic moments, however, and in one of these he drew a portrait of me on some kind of artboard that was about two feet by three feet.
When we split up, I put the portrait in the trash because I felt so much anger against him. But as the years went by and no one else ever drew a portrait of me (or wrote a poem or composed a song) I came to realize how rare an expression that portrait was and I have always wished I kept it, despite never wanting to see the artist again.
Especially now that I am forty, I realize that no one else will ever admire the beauty of my youth so much that they make a work of art based on it. There are many lost objects in my past - including an entire storage locker full of childhood memories - but I have thought of that portrait most often and in most poignant terms through the years.
Last seen in Louisville, Kentucky in 1987.
Sparrow, Kentucky
In my late teens, I lived with a man in his thirties who was very abusive toward me. He had his charming and romantic moments, however, and in one of these he drew a portrait of me on some kind of artboard that was about two feet by three feet.
When we split up, I put the portrait in the trash because I felt so much anger against him. But as the years went by and no one else ever drew a portrait of me (or wrote a poem or composed a song) I came to realize how rare an expression that portrait was and I have always wished I kept it, despite never wanting to see the artist again.
Especially now that I am forty, I realize that no one else will ever admire the beauty of my youth so much that they make a work of art based on it. There are many lost objects in my past - including an entire storage locker full of childhood memories - but I have thought of that portrait most often and in most poignant terms through the years.
Last seen in Louisville, Kentucky in 1987.
Sparrow, Kentucky
Labels: Kentucky, Louisville, portrait, relationships, youth
¶ 6:35 PM 0 Comments Links to this post
