Wednesday 31 July 2019

What will you leave behind?

This morning I am going to tell you about an auction . . . an auction like no other . . . it's no ordinary auction. In this auction, people are able to bid on unclaimed items which have been left behind in safe-deposit boxes. These are items which have been deemed so important . . . that people have paid good money to have them safeguarded . . . in steel.

Diplomas, children's report cards, letters . . .

You shuffle along, past the coin collections and gold pocket watches . . . past the jewelry to documents and small items, all sealed in plastic bags.

Boy Scout Patches, receipts from a Waikiki hotel, a child's crayon drawing of a bunny rabbit . . .

All unclaimed property, waiting to be auctioned off on the block . . . each one the forgotten or overlooked possessions of owners now passed on . . . 

Rosaries, letters, train tickets . . .

Each bag holds a mystery, the clues arousing curiosity, but giving no answers, but a few. In one there are the immigration papers of a man who arrived at Ellis Island, in America back in 1906. Did he discover all the promise that America held for him? Did he find what he was looking for???

Two marbles, a few stones, and a belt buckle . . .

Very curious. Do these things represent special memories of an event or a special person???

Passports, telegrams, newspaper clippings . . .

The yellowed article from a 1959 newspaper reads . . . "Vlahovich's Mother Sobs At Guilty Verdict." Imagine it . . . a mother's son convicted of murder. The mother wept, pleading with the judge involved to spare her son. "Take my blood," she weeps. "Kill me!" You find yourself wondering . . . did she watch her son die in the electric chair???  

Undeveloped film, birth certificates, marriage certificates . . .

Mingled here . . . the unofficial business of life along with the official business of life . . . a curling lock of golden hair, a child's corrected paper along with a poem . . . "Grandmother's Attic," typed out on a yellowing sheet of paper, the print now slightly fading . . .

"While up in Grandmother's attic today
In an old red trunk, neatly folded away
Was a billowy dress of soft and gray
Of rose brocade were the panniers wide
With quilted patterns down the side
And way in the back against the wall
Of the little old trunk was an old silk shawl
Silver slippers, a fan from France
An invitation to a dance
Written across the program blue . . .
Was "Agatha dear, may I dance with you?"

It's as if all those at the auction have been given entry into hundred's of Grandmother's attics . . . except these are the attics of hundreds of unknown people. 

Diaries, photographs, the ink print of a newborn's feet . . .

In the light of lives now lost, these items speak volumes about life . . . suggesting a sense of finality, the realization that life on earth is limited and will one day come to an end, and at the end . . . material possessions don't come with you . . .

So . . . what will YOU leave behind???

A small metal box filled with mementos speaks volumes about what is valued . . . but that is only a whisper when compared to the legacy of life, itself. Amidst our "he-who-dies-with-the-most-toys" world, perhaps we should dare to leave something a little bit more special . . . 

All these pictures here this morning are ones that I took on a visit to Boulogne, in France, about 12 years ago now. (Time flies when you're having fun!) We had gone over there with friends on a day trip. It was summer and the sun was blazing and the company fabulous. In Boulogne we were fascinated by this garden which had been planted . . . only a temporary one . . . created out of cast off vehicles, bicycles and the like . . .

I was absolutely fascinated with it . . . this idea that what might have been considered refuse . . . and left discarded to rust in a car dump, could be revitalized and made into something which really was quite, quite beautiful. The perfect epitomy of re-purposing found objects  . . .  You look at each vehicle and wonder about who might have owned it at one time.  What were their lives like, what stories could be told, how many kisses were planted on blushing cheeks in the front seats, how many fields plowed and planted, how many bicycle rides along the canal  . . . what stories lay hidden in the past?

Boulogne is one of my favourite French places to visit. I especially love the area which lies within the walled part, with it's cobbled streets and quaint shops.  I guess  I just love France, especially when you get away from the really large cities.

A thought to carry with you  . . . 

° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ •
•。★★ 。* 。
° 。 ° ˛˚˛ * _Π_____*。*˚
˚ ˛ •˛•˚ */______/~\。˚ ˚ ˛
˚ ˛ •˛• ˚ | 田田 |門 ★

Someday I hope to enjoy enough of 
what the world calls success 
so that somebody will ask me, 
"What's the secret of it?" 
I shall simply say this: 
"I get up when I fall down."
~Paul Harvey 
•。★★ 。* 。  

Sole Fillets with Lemon & Thyme 

In the English Kitchen today  . . .  Panfried Sole with Lemon & Thyme.  Deliciously simple!

Have a wonderful Wednesday.  Its just bucketing down here and quite windy, but it will be a bit of a welcome respite from the mugginess of yesterday!  I might crack on with more sorting out. Whatever you get up to today, don't forget  . . . 

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═══════════ ღೋƸ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒღೋ ═══════════  

And I do too!    




  1. I remember some of your Boulogne pics!!Lovely memories!

    1. Oh I do have some very fond memories of visiting Boulogne. We were able to go there on three or four separate occasions. I loved it! Of course spending time with people you enjoy is all a part of it! xoxo

  2. My goodness, the things people forget they have. It's very sad to think of all that is lost in the mists of time. It breaks my heart to see family photos and ephemera for sale to strangers at a flea market. Perhaps there us no family left to treadure them. Hope the rain clears up for you. Brave girl to be sorting! Hugs, Elaine

    1. I know what you mean Elaine. Sadly most people keep their photos online these days rather than in albums. What will be left for our children and their children to enjoy One wonders. I am grateful for any old photos that I have. They mean the world to me. Love and hugs to you! xoxo
      PS - Still raining off and on, but at least it is somewhat cooler!

  3. How you've inspired my imagination to take flight! I wonder if an author might find inspiration there?
    My parents were firm believers in safety deposit boxes -- but my present circumstances don't lend themselves to that importance.

    1. Thanks Mevely! Mom had a small metal strong box she kept in her closet. I have made it a practice in my life not to own anything that would destroy ME if it got destroyed by accident or otherwise. Life is better that way. For me anyways! xoxo

  4. I loved reading all of this. It brought back memories of going through my mother's items and thinking about those things that she treasured. My sweet Aunt recently passed away at the age of 98 years old. She had a written history, I wrote her sister's history who died at 100 years old and also completed my mother and dad histories. To me these are treasured memories of their lives. Interesting that my mother and her two sisters experienced many of the same things and they had very different prospective s of various life events.
    You are such a brilliant writer; I hope you are working on your history too. It would be a interesting one for sure; maybe even a novel.
    Sending loving thoughts and lots of hugs your way!

    1. What wonderful legacies LeAnn! I have started my history several times, but always get distracted! Love and hugs to you and Roger! xoxo


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