iv/ fourth pocket

Histories in our pockets

Carrying something around in our pockets,
Nothing really,
but just something
to see where it fits.
It might just fit in a pocket.
A smooth stone, some found pennies, a bottle cap, several buttons a crumpled shopping list, a couple of rubber bands and a paper clip. I like the image of the parent who empties the pockets of the child’s clothes before putting them in the wash. What story did this token have? I tend to set things out to observe them, sometimes in a place; sometimes, no place. I stumble upon these tokens, maybe rearrange them, adding like to like, or an odd bit to a set of likes, and they evoke reverie. Try it or notice that you already do that, too.

We continuously come across cherished and worn objects that beg to release histories. These secrets of their use become encoded in the worn surfaces and chipped or broken corners. I have several rolling pins and some came from a neighbor’s home. She was over 90 when she died and her home was emptied and sold. I wondered how many pie-crusts and how many biscuits had come under these wooden cylinder. In an age where kitchen goods sold as antiques fill roadside warehouses, I wish that pie and muffin tins would recite stories, including overheard conversations or favorite recipes.




Tell the story of some object, simply and with some sense of humor, and let it spark someone else’s imagination. If no one is around to listen, write on a slip of paper and let it be a label for the object. Whose old worn tool is this is?