We have things. We have things that were from my grandparents, and things that were from my husband's grandparents.
The fireplace tools live in a big stoneware crock, the kind someone would make pickles in. It's been prone to scratching the hearth, so I asked my husband to put some felt pads on the bottom. He hauled it downstairs, and lo and behold:
His grandfather - Mr. P. - was a fan of the black permanent marker, and a fan of marking everything with the purchase date and price. We're thinking Mrs. P. bought the crock in the fall of 1932 and that Mr. P. added the estimated price later. I never met Mr. P. but I did have the great joy of visiting his cellar once. They lived in coal country and the house was heated with coal and every time they got a delivery of coal, he wrote the date and the quantity and the price on the wall. The wall was COVERED with black writing, like some form of performance art. I wish I had a picture of that.
1 comments:
Oh my, coal fires. The scent of my youth.
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