An Ode to Lost Things, Nov. 29, 2022 Here in the U.S., we just celebrated Thanksgiving, the day when we are supposed to share our bounty and declare all the things that we are thankful for. This time of the year is not the time to be whining about what’s been lost, you know, stuff. We’re even supposed to free ourselves of stuff. While my Lost Things are just stuff, they are essential stuff. And, I would be ever so thankful if my stuff made its way back to me. It’d be a glorious Christmas or Hanukkah or other winter holiday miracle! The memories of the lost stuff have stuck with me. Some items have only been gone a year or two, some decades. But I want them all back no matter how long they’ve been away. If you happen to have my stuff, it is not yours. Those pieces are my property and were not given away freely. You are in possession of stolen goods. In thinking about all this stuff, I got to wondering why I was even thinking about the stuff in the first place. Are our worldly possessions more than stuff? Some mementos are. Some of the stuff whose loss I’ve felt the longest and feel the worst about are related to family. The items spark sentimental feelings, of course. But what is sentiment? Proof that those who bestowed us with the special items existed? And by owning the items, we too exist? And, if we don’t exist in a physical and meaningful way, later in turn able to leave something behind, do we or should we exist at all? And worse than this existential flogging is that in addition to my tragic feelings, my grandmother thought I didn’t like and got rid of these items. Oh, how did I love thee? Let me recount the ways, the ways that you were lost that is. FAMILY ARTICLE ONE The first item to join the land of loss was my grandmother’s old camera. It was from the 40’s I believe. She had noticed that I liked dabbling with my camera so she shared her old one with me. I had so much fun looking into the viewfinder hood on top and pushing the button on the side. I felt like I really worked to get the picture more than with the modern point-and-click. I felt like a budding photographer. The loss of that item feels like the loss of that interest or hobby; like it was taken away before it could develop. {Oooh, a pun!} Hurt. So. Bad. She gave it to me for a birthday. I loved it! At the time, rose gold wasn’t all the rage, so it was also unique. FAMILY ARTICLE TWO Even worse to lose, though, was a piece of jewelry; my grandmother’s rose gold lock baby bracelet. Comments are closed.
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AuthorGreat transitioner & media operative seeking a position as a script coordinator, writers' room assistant, or staff writer with a TV drama. I'm also open to related jobs with networks and production companies. Landing an agent would be awesome. Archives
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