Yesterday I visited the blog of one of my favorite photographers, David duChemin. He’s writing a series of posts entitled Objects of Beauty, summarized in this way:

A friend once commented that we (I think he meant me) mark our lives by the things we acquire. I think that’s less true than that we have an interesting relationship to those things. They help tell our story.

David is photographing meaningful objects and telling their story, or really his story as shaped and influenced by these special items. Here are links to numbers one, two, three, four, and five (I dare you not to cry over four; five got me, too).

I immediately knew that I wanted to borrow this idea! What would I include? What possessions do I consider precious enough to make the list?

The first thing that came to mind 99.9% of people would put straight in the garbage can and the other 0.1% would use in a craft project. It’s a popsicle stick. A popsicle stick.

Before you decide that I’ve lost it, let me tell you a story . . .

I grew up living close to my grandparents. Granddad, my mom’s father, was a minister and a businessman who co-owned a piano company with my dad through most of my childhood. Although Granddad retired from the piano business years before he and Daddy started this company, with rezoning they set up shop right on the property where my grandparents lived.

After school my sister, my first cousin, and I went to my grandparents’ house. Both of my parents were there because my mother handled the bookkeeping. My great aunts lived across the street.

Looking back, it couldn’t have been more idyllic: biscuits and sorghum with Granddad; playing H.O.R.S.E. or baseball in the yard; Partridge Family and Gilligan’s Island marathons on TV.


Granddad with our oldest son

But I promised you a story about the popsicle stick . . .

Granddad was a minister, remember? He sat in a big recliner with a desk on his left and bookshelves full of religious commentaries behind him.  His Bible was supple and worn, full of notes and verses underlined in red ink. These lines weren’t haphazard, they were drawn precisely, pen guided by a popsicle stick beneath each line of text.

Granddad passed away in 1991, days before the birth of our second child. Some of his books are mine now, and inside one I found one of those old popsicle sticks with red ink along the edges. I’ve kept it with my Bible ever since, forever connected to a precious time and a dear man.

What’s an unusual object of beauty that you cherish?


Today marks the sixth anniversary of My Home Sweet Home! Whether you’re a new visitor or we go way back, welcome!

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