I am a lover of old things- the older, the better. There is something about objects and buildings and people with their patina of many years that draws me in, makes me want to learn more about them. Their stories seem to whisper to me, and I long to learn their secrets and help keep them on their journey through time. Maybe it was growing up in my mother’s house, filled to the brim as it was with antiques (“Hahn-tiques”, as she would jokingly call them). I loved to hear her talk about the history of each piece, especially when it was connected to our own family history.
That connection with the past speaks to me deeply. I wonder what the people who first built the house or made the furniture or object were like, how they lived their lives. What was the world like that they existed in? What were their stories? Their hopes, their dreams? When I look at the photos of my parents, grandparents, and great grandparents, I think of their stories and how what they experienced and how they lived made me who I am. What a fascinating and beautiful gift to have.
New things are wonderful and have their important place in helping our world move forward, but old things…old things teach us lessons, give us ties with our history, our families, our world. Growing up as the youngest born to a mother who was the baby of her family, I have been around older people my entire life. I have always felt a special affinity for the aged, and love hearing them tell their tales of the “olden times”. There is so much to take from their experiences, as well as the perpetuation of traditions and history that passing down these stories, buildings, and treasures can bring. We are all a part of a never ending flow of life, and I wonder…what will our stories tell others some day?