FALLING IN LOVE WITH INANIMATE OBJECTS Is it about the future? Something to look forward to? Your hand reaching out from tonight into tomorrow when it will hold the ring, the pin, the piece of painted cloth you fell in love with? Is it a contract with the universe? That you will live to enjoy what you treasure? That your survival is set in stone, so to speak? Or flax, or silver? Or is it about gathering more and more objects to look at? To appreciate? To love? Last night at three in the morning you went through another auction catalogue, staring at old jewelry as if strolling through a museum. Would it be as thrilling if you were finding these things in the sand? Four old teddy bears, each falling apart differently, and you wondered briefly about buying one as an example of how love can wear you out. Someone had put three dollars on the bear missing its left eye. There were two pairs of carved wooden angel wings, but you’ve had a more beautiful pair for sixty years. You bought them on McDougal Street, asking where the angel was. You were maybe twenty. The shopkeeper said if the angel was still attached the wings would cost more. But what happened to the angel? Are only the wings of value? Like ivory ? Or do angels divest themselves of their wings in order to mix safely among human kind? We can be a treacherous lot. Yesterday morning you bought six octagonal plates so brightly and nuttily painted you had to have them--you fell flat out in love. They are from the 1920’s and the artist who painted them is referred to as a “paintress.”
I think it was Iris Murdoch who said "One of the secrets of a happy life is continuous small treats." I couldn't agree more. Not always "things" as such, but if that limestone rabbit offers you a "sparkle" why not pursue it? xo
Abigail- I’m in love with this piece. It’s flows like silky water. And it’s not cluttering my little space in our Manhattan high rise apartment. Have a blessed day!
The beginning of this reminds me of the velveteen rabbit.
“ generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off and your eyes drop out and you get loose joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real, you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”
Yes, what holds us to things? I ask myself this as I look around at the things (not including scores of books!) that I’ve collected over the past 60+ years and that are still in boxes from a major move 18 years ago when we downsized without having an auction, and now looking at family heirlooms that my kids probably don’t want. Should I put them all in a heap somewhere and bury them for future archaeologists? Burn them? I just don’t know if I want to go through the whole process of even trying to sell the more valuable items — I’d rather give things to people who will appreciate. All of these people telling you to downsize or Swedish death clean or be minimalist, easier said than done when you were attached to things and their memories, and just the pure magpie pleasure of having things! It’s a conundrum this safety of objects.
I want to make sure, which is ,of course, imossible, that everything I love finds a home. After my kids have taken what they want, I want a great big open house and people can just come in and take whatever is left that they like. Maybe I should do this before I'm dead.
When I was clearing my parents’ house after they died, I found a packet labelled “teddy bear eyes” that a lady my mum had met on a bus had posted to her. I’m imagining one of them might have matched! No angel without wings, though.
I kept the teddy bear eyes! To remind me of my mum. She was a hoarder (though she would never use that word about herself) and it was just like her to keep the eyes that might one day match a half-sighted bear. How the topic came up with the stranger on the bus I have no clue. She would talk to anyone!
what a fun thing to write about. what do you suppose the conversation consisted of that resulted in your mother receiving that odd and wonderful packet of eyes??
You're inspiring me to write about it next, Abigail! I've found the photo I took of the teddy eyes. The image I use for my own substack, Wendy's World, is a jar of random objects I found when clearing my parents' house. So very much on my mind.
Thanks again for your writing here, Abigail. Really enjoying it.
Please empty that jar and let us know what you found and kept in memory of your mother. Then your mother can be part of that piece. I should look at what you write about. will do. but I am dying to know what';s in that jar.
I am writing about what’s in the jar. Thank you for the encouragement, Abigail.
And after finding you here, not having known your work, I looked up your books and ordered Still Life At Eighty, Safekeeping and Two Pages. Just arrived and I’m already engrossed in Safekeeping. What a delight.
I can't wait to read about what's in that jar. And thank you for liking Safekeeeping. But oh good! That jar! Please let me know when you finish it. You must be having an interesting time with it.
I think it was Iris Murdoch who said "One of the secrets of a happy life is continuous small treats." I couldn't agree more. Not always "things" as such, but if that limestone rabbit offers you a "sparkle" why not pursue it? xo
ALAS, THE LITTLE RABBIT SOLD FOR HUNDREDS OFDOLLARS I DIDN'T HAVE.
but i love what Iris Murdoch said. My new model. Thank you.
Abigail- I’m in love with this piece. It’s flows like silky water. And it’s not cluttering my little space in our Manhattan high rise apartment. Have a blessed day!
You are so nice, flows like silky water, what a lovely thing to say. And nope, it won't clutter your
apartment, That is a plus.
Thank you.
The beginning of this reminds me of the velveteen rabbit.
“ generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off and your eyes drop out and you get loose joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real, you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”
all three of those teddybears were worn out from love. l ove can. be exaausting..
So good.
Thanks, Rick.
Yes, what holds us to things? I ask myself this as I look around at the things (not including scores of books!) that I’ve collected over the past 60+ years and that are still in boxes from a major move 18 years ago when we downsized without having an auction, and now looking at family heirlooms that my kids probably don’t want. Should I put them all in a heap somewhere and bury them for future archaeologists? Burn them? I just don’t know if I want to go through the whole process of even trying to sell the more valuable items — I’d rather give things to people who will appreciate. All of these people telling you to downsize or Swedish death clean or be minimalist, easier said than done when you were attached to things and their memories, and just the pure magpie pleasure of having things! It’s a conundrum this safety of objects.
I want to make sure, which is ,of course, imossible, that everything I love finds a home. After my kids have taken what they want, I want a great big open house and people can just come in and take whatever is left that they like. Maybe I should do this before I'm dead.
Actually, that’s not a bad idea! Throw a big party for yourself and everyone gets a lovely parting gift!
and it would be so interesting to see who fell in love with what!! much more satisfying than being dead when it all took place!!
Ah Abby- I’m so glad you’re writing here. This is wonderful.
Thank you, Kate.
When I was clearing my parents’ house after they died, I found a packet labelled “teddy bear eyes” that a lady my mum had met on a bus had posted to her. I’m imagining one of them might have matched! No angel without wings, though.
Again, delightful writing. Thank you.
Teddy Bear Eyes! Even I don't have any of those. God, what odd treasure you must have found. I love this.
Thank you.
I kept the teddy bear eyes! To remind me of my mum. She was a hoarder (though she would never use that word about herself) and it was just like her to keep the eyes that might one day match a half-sighted bear. How the topic came up with the stranger on the bus I have no clue. She would talk to anyone!
what a fun thing to write about. what do you suppose the conversation consisted of that resulted in your mother receiving that odd and wonderful packet of eyes??
You're inspiring me to write about it next, Abigail! I've found the photo I took of the teddy eyes. The image I use for my own substack, Wendy's World, is a jar of random objects I found when clearing my parents' house. So very much on my mind.
Thanks again for your writing here, Abigail. Really enjoying it.
Please empty that jar and let us know what you found and kept in memory of your mother. Then your mother can be part of that piece. I should look at what you write about. will do. but I am dying to know what';s in that jar.
I am writing about what’s in the jar. Thank you for the encouragement, Abigail.
And after finding you here, not having known your work, I looked up your books and ordered Still Life At Eighty, Safekeeping and Two Pages. Just arrived and I’m already engrossed in Safekeeping. What a delight.
I can't wait to read about what's in that jar. And thank you for liking Safekeeeping. But oh good! That jar! Please let me know when you finish it. You must be having an interesting time with it.
What's in the jar! Thank you so much for prompting me to write about this Abigail.
https://wendyvarley.substack.com/p/teddy-bear-eyes
As always, a welcome morning pick-me-up xoxoxox
Thanks, Ann.