Chevys, Levis, White Castles and Cokes…these were the familiar flavors of 60 years ago in Chicago Heights, Illinois.
Most of the “memorables” from that time are now classic collectibles and in another 15 years will be considered antiques. Why I am almost an antique. So no wonder I enjoy roaming the isles of shops were such items are offered for sale…I mean resale.
I bought 4 purple drinking glasses recently just like the one’s my mother served orange or grapefruit juice in every morning. They came as a set of four and you had to take the one with a small, hardly noticeable scratch. The purple four connect me to the memories and to the emotions of the past – some good, some not..all perfectly necessary for that growing up thing.
The Torah, the prayer book, Grandma Baker’s old brass Hanukkah Menorah hook me to history – to the history I lived and to the history before I lived.
I have my father’s Tux in the closet and my mother’s Stole. Why? Just because…
They’re not clutter to me. I have made an investment in them and from time to time it pays dividends. I can see them in their finest. Smell them. Hear them. Smile at them. Remember them.
A ship requires an anchor to keep it from drifting away. So do we all.
Pass the Coke!
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