History speaks loudly through those items which remain. Echoes sound in the worn-smooth handle of the coffee grinder, and in the yellowed folds of the blouse with tiny pin-tucks down the front. Cast your gaze on letters and greeting cards tucked into the stained fabric-covered box. A faint fug of dust rises as the lid is lifted away, and there lies the treasure of years. Some notes are slipped into envelopes; some simply lie between the carefully laid leaves of others. The encounter with the program from a show mentioned in the Line-a-Day diary brings tremors of connection. More tremors come as more layers are revealed.
What is the fascination with another’s keepsakes, so carefully preserved? Each is a snapshot, a patch in the quilt of story, of history. Together, pieces stitched begin to form narrative, and my fascination grows. Fascination with one person extends now to a time period, and to events of the times. Influenza epidemic. World War I. Great Depression. Where will the journey lead?
