I opened one box at the Meeting House, after unloading a truckload of books. The one from the Tinsely-Praetorius household (they call themselves the Tinslorius family) contained oranges and lemons. These are from California. I was glad to see that they withstood the cold and were still fresh.
I opened the second box upon arriving home, after doing a distribution run. My sister had told me what the box contained; nevertheless, the contents did give me reason to pause because it was in some ways a blast from my past.
The reindeer cup – I had never seen this before. That was okay. The plate, for holding spoons and the like while cooking, this was a bit harder to take because my mother had painted it – this is now the only thing of hers that I now own.
There was also an old journal of mine, containing poems and a photo of me completing the 1974 Rochester marathon. My youth, my energy, in the writings and the photo, did take me aback. The writings are actually quite good – I was a very articulate writer – had I gotten some guidance career wise, I might have made something of myself. For this reason, I quickly closed the notebook and put it back in the box.
Also included, my grandmother’s shoe collection. The shoes are decorative, small, mostly ceramic. I never fully understood why she chose to collect shoes. She may have told me, and I may have forgotten.
I’d said to my sister a few weeks ago that I’d take them when she said that they were sitting in her garage. Ten, twenty, thirty years ago, I most likely would have said give them to someone else in the family.
Do we become more sentimental as we grow older? I guess so.
Everything, including the shoes, were carefully wrapped. I will put up the nick knack shelf in my cabin when the weather is better. The question I have is, what will become of these shoes when I am no longer around? I mean, is there anyone out there who collects this sort of thing? I thought that maybe there would be at the very most a dozen shoes – there are close to three dozen.
I don’t feel any great sense of attachment to these shoes. Rather, I feel a sense of obligation. They were important to my grandmother, so I will continue to take care of them. But who will want them? I haven’t a clue.
Next: 72. 3/15/22: A Conversation with Raudi