Collectibles and memory

It seems as we get older there are so many memories stored away that they are almost irretrievable. They are there, and they are subconsciously part of our personality because I believe we truly are our memories. But how, when, and why they come up from the depths of ours pasts is a very mysterious and fascinating phenomenon. Sometimes it takes objects or things that to most would seem entirely ordinary and irrelevant, but which to me or anyone else for whom they hold meaning, have the capacity for unleashing sudden torrents of recollection and powerfully nostalgic feelings.

It happened to me yesterday on a day trip upstate with some friends to visit a former co-worker who lives in the country. We all went out for a barbecue buffet lunch, and then decided to visit some antique and collectible shops on the half-deserted main streets of the little towns nearby. It’s amazing what you will find in those shops if you take the time to wander in and browse a bit.

One of them had a print of an old grist mill that I bought for a pittance (It was framed, too), and it also had some old copies of South Carolina Wildlife magazine, which for those of you who don’t know, is one of the most splendid state publications put out anywhere. It has all kinds of articles and magnificent photography about the people and places of our state, and has won numerous awards over the years. I happened to look at the batch for sale for 50 cents a copy and discovered to my wonder and amazement an issue from the early 80s that featured a small community that was home to a dear friend and her family who lived there for many years. They had a farm with a great old house and a picturesque creek flowing in back of the property. I have written about it before in my journal. With the article was an accompanying photograph of my friend’s father, whom I remember, along with his wife, as gracious hosts when their daughter invited her Columbia friends out to the country for a big afternoon dinner, country-style. There he was with his walking staff, a dignified old gentleman who I recall as so quiet and courtly. His picture and the other photos of that rural community took me back immediately to a very special time in my life in the 1970s. Nothing short of seeing them again could evoke such memories.

Then we went another antiques store, which really contained more collectibles than antiques (which is what I prefer), and this shop was like a museum — every manner of old plates, mugs, glasses, furniture, farm implements, utensils, do-dads, and a healthy smattering of items from the 50s when I was a child. (A sign propped up on a piece of furniture said, "This is NOT a museum. All our junk is for sale.") What should I see but a complete microscope set like those played with when I was 7 or 8. Then, in wonder and with a sudden jolt of recollection, I saw the exact round cake plate and cover that my mother used when I was a child to place her famed butter cakes on whenever my birthday came around. You might remember what I am talking about: heavy round glass on the bottom and a light-weight aluminum cover with a black plastic knob for placing over the cake. It even had decades-old bits of food and cake lodged in the round ridges on top of the cover. There it sat on a table with other odds and ends. I haven’t seen that type of cake holder since I was a teenager. How I savored those moist two-layer confections with the butter and sugar icing! There was never a better-tasting cake, in my opinion. And my mother always made one from scratch for each of us, every year.

Yep. My grandmother had one just like that and there was a delicious cake under that lid every time I went to her house. And sugar cookies in an apple shaped cookie jar.

I feed my grandchildren yogurt and fruit for a treat. I wonder if they will look back on these with nostalgia!

I have memories of a cake plate like that, my friend, and my mom’s double chocolate scratch cakes. My favorite dessert though was homemade blackberry dumplings she made in a big metal pot. Thanks for this. Love,

You tantalize the taste buds, dear Oswego. 🙂 I love coming here…a quiet stroll, lingering on each sentence; sensating, savoring…:)Now I know that’s a lotta’ “S’s”, but it’s true.*

Hamlet

August 26, 2000

I have spend many hours roaming through flee markets and sometimes I can sift some truly valuable things. Your experience reminds me much of this.

You collect so many fine memories for the rest of us to treasure. Thank you.

I remeber my mom blackberry dumblins and mac& cheese with tamatoes. Cornbread & buttermilk!!! Thank you for your note. I like antics too!! Blessed BE!!!

It would be fun to go to collectible stores and take pictures of everything that holds a memory, then put together a book. I bought a tin dollhouse just like the one I had as a kid.

I feel as if I’m taking a nostalgic trip down old (and beloved) country roads. You make a great chauffeur.

thank you for the website, e-mail and the supportive note! I REALLY appreciate it. We have similar tastes in photography. Wish I had more skill though (I use an old everything-manual camera but usu. color)

i too have those memories…all good entries, Oswego, as always…smiles…

I have a rusty RC Cola thermometer hanging in my garage that I bought in a place like that one time. So many treasures, so little time . . .

Such an exciting find! Treasures such as these bought at a pittance: they are indeed among my favorite things!

Bramble

August 28, 2000

I went into a shop and saw the same red wooden horse that I rode for so many miles as a child, then a saw a wooden match holder that hangs on the wall just like was in the kitchen of my youth. What a jolt back to t

I liked this entry so much!! My Miss B and I went to a few shops in town this week. We had a cookie jar with all the different kinds of cookies on it. BTW I bake a cake for each of my kids also.

I loved that sign abt the junk 🙂 It’s such a pleasure to read your entries. Always

oh my gosh…now you’ve gone and done it…im hungry for a cake now *grin* ((started my diet today-can you tell?))

Thank you!! I do love him! He has to stay in the hopital for 5 days. I will miss him!!!! Blessed Be!!

adrift

Oh yes! I remember those cake tins. Mom had one too~ Memories are the gentle whispers that connect our heart to the past~ A warm & heartfully written entry, dear friend ~ Thanks for the permission. *smile*

Willy & Wilma

August 29, 2000

Freewind mentioned blackberry dumplings. Reminded me of mom’s blackberry cobbler, with criss crossed layers of pie dough dumplimg strips simmered in blackberry juice. That was the yummiest stuff imaginable.

Only the East could have such a fascinating abundance of early American stuff.

Shhh… If we tell everyone how much the memories mean that these “collectibles” bring us, we’ll be charged for browsing there. Sweet entry.

Revisiting you in a beautiful garden, the dying village of Lone Star and among the dusty aisles and counters of some country antique stores. Your prose is inviting. I have a real urge to climb aboard your Wagon and

—EXPLORE! So good to move into your mode: soothing, gentle and acutely aware!

I found a music box on Ebay exactly like the one my mother gave me for my eighth birthday – what a shock of recognition. Had forgotten all about it, and remember how I loved it. Thanks for the memories!

HarpHill (2)

September 23, 2000

My first thought was haunting, immediately followed by taunting…at my age it takes very little to tap my memory reservoirs.

Edelweis

April 17, 2002

What a beautiful memory…I can imagine your mother’s cake was the best of the whole world. Hmmm! My mother didn’t bake cakes, but my father started to bake delicious fruit-pies and bread after he retired. Now, since last year he didn’t bake anything. I miss that when I visit them, but he says he doesn’t feel ok. Take care,