Insignificant things seem particularly adept at holding deep value that isn’t obvious, but somehow connects us across time.
My great grandmother had a pair of ridiculously small, green plastic “sunglasses” — if one could even call them that — that lived in a white plastic case in the glove box of her massive brown Cadillac. They were always there. I never saw her wear them. I never saw her touch them. I never saw anyone touch them. But they were always there.
I would open them and study them every time I was in her car. I don’t know why. I actually hate all sunglasses, even to this day. I have no idea where they came from or why she owned them.
But I have them. They somehow are a tether.
Which is my way of saying, I like the dimmer switch story. Hope you kept it in a box of unsorted, but significant things.
Tethers. That's it exactly. These things tether us to our experiences, our lives, our loved ones — even if the item is something as anodyne as a dimmer.
You just unlocked a core memory! We had that SAME EXACT dimmer switch in my childhood home, that we moved out of in 1987.
I love the notion of the dimmer disapora!
I’d like to see inside your brain! 🤣 Great essay!
(Says Sampson, but remarks from Shirley!)
Your trippy reflections aim a narrow-beam spotlight on an ordinary object that comes into focus as extraordinary in a wider perspective.
Deftly done again, deep thinker. Way to shine and illuminate.
Insignificant things seem particularly adept at holding deep value that isn’t obvious, but somehow connects us across time.
My great grandmother had a pair of ridiculously small, green plastic “sunglasses” — if one could even call them that — that lived in a white plastic case in the glove box of her massive brown Cadillac. They were always there. I never saw her wear them. I never saw her touch them. I never saw anyone touch them. But they were always there.
I would open them and study them every time I was in her car. I don’t know why. I actually hate all sunglasses, even to this day. I have no idea where they came from or why she owned them.
But I have them. They somehow are a tether.
Which is my way of saying, I like the dimmer switch story. Hope you kept it in a box of unsorted, but significant things.
Tethers. That's it exactly. These things tether us to our experiences, our lives, our loved ones — even if the item is something as anodyne as a dimmer.