For the Love of Objects


Some kids have a security blanket. Others have a favorite stuffed animal, doll, or toy. My blanket’s name was Geegee.  In the end, Geegee did not resemble a blanket at all, but I liked rubbing the fabric pills between my thumb and index finger. When they fell off, I saved those pieces of my friend in a butter dish.

Of course I did.

One day my mom started making me keep Geegee in the top of my closet, just at night when I slept. She claimed that keeping him close to my face while I slept was bad for me because he was so old. At first I fought back, until I discovered that it was just easier to sneak him back down from the closet after my parents went to bed. This went on for a while, until my lazy nature won out and I just stopped sneaking him down from that closet altogether. Eventually, I forgot about Geegee.

I guess that made me a pretty crappy friend. It also shows just how much our affection for things and people can be a result of our addiction to them. Fill the space with something new, and our brains will make new connections. This is both depressing and encouraging at the same time. But, I do have a good memory of that blanket. Call it human sentimentality.

My daughter is currently obsessed with a box full of torn paper.

Actually, it’s a Songburst Game (the 50’s and 60’s version). It’s just the box lid, filled with a thousand pieces of torn game cards. Some cards are still intact. For now. I am not sure what happened to the little records that were part of the game, they disappeared sometime last week.

She carries the box from room to room. Sometimes she just sits on the stairs with the box and taps on the cards. Sometimes one at a time, sometimes in a group. Sometimes she taps them against her ear. Every few minutes she tears one.

Occasionally she smells one.

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