trinkets and things..

Shit, I missed another Thursday... 

That being said, let me tell you a little story about yet another wonderful moment on my path to enlightenment - also known as "shit that I like".

Somehow or another, I have ended up with a world filled with things.  Some of them I bought, some of them were given to me and some of them I outright stole. Of course most of the things I have bought - I needed for one reason or another and I have no emotional connection to most of it.  Of the things that have been gifted, I keep only what I need and I re-gift the rest.. (I'm a giver, don't judge).  But there exist in my life, a series of random things- emotional things, that - I am sad to say - are stolen.  

Case in point -
My 1962 Levi Strauss jean jacket.
Stolen - 1989, NYC 
From - my best friend Karen who was studying Art History at Fordham University while we rode the Subway trolling for booze.  Said jacket was the rightful property of her long gone, alcoholic father who rocked the jacket for years before moving out of her house.  It's rumored the jacket made it to Woodstock and back.  It is ripped beyond repair in the sleeves, is stained and patched and has a few beads sewn into the collar.   K let me wear it one night and I never gave it back.  It rode the subway back to the safety of Long Island and eventually back to western NY, through multiple states and ended up in Ohio.  She asked for it back about 15 years ago.  I told her no.  I love her, and I love the jacket and unfortunately for her - it's mine now.  I reminds me of her, of freedom, and it looks cool as hell.

Case #2-
Ralph Lauren Bath Towel (you know, one of those really, really big ones that wraps around you a bunch of times)
Stolen - 2009, Jamboree in the Hills
From -  "the Cinci" crew during a final cleanup of our campsite.  So, for the uninitiated, there is a huge country music festival in the hills of Ohio every summer.  This 4 day party includes mucho drinking, dancing and cavorting with like minded hillbillies who all grew up and can afford the overpriced camping and entrance fees.  Years ago my local friends and I met another group from Cincinnati (didn't you ever wonder why one of the most conservative cities in the country sounds like "sin city").  There is always a kiddie pool and water fights and beer pong and food.  One year while we were cleaning up, one of the women left her towel on my truck.  I tried to return it to her at the time but she was distracted with other things and rather than interrupt her - I kept it for myself.  It was soft, and fluffy and more expensive than anything I would ever buy for myself...  (she's a pharmaceutical rep for christsakes - she can afford a damn nice towel).  I still use this towel.  I love this towel.  It wraps around me twice.  It is white.  It reminds me of the beautiful things she told me about myself over one too many shitty American beers.  I cannot give this towel back.  I told her I had it, she told me to keep it.  I used this towel on Thursday and thought of her.

Case #3
Hand Can Opener
Stolen - 1993, College Street House - Kent, Ohio
From - Matt (I can't remember his last name).  Through divine intervention (and a friend named Mike), I ended up sharing a rooming house with about 7 other people in college.  Like all marriages of convenience, we were a motley crew joined by our college rock affiliations and our propensity to wield sarcasm like swords.   All 8 of us shared a bathroom and a kitchen in the basement.  The rotating cast of characters that went in and out of the house (both as residents and guests) would be enough to write a rock anthem movie. 
Anyway, after years in the house my soon to be husband moves in with a virtual kitchen in a box.  He's got knives and plates and cups and kitchen tools and strainers and pots and pans and.... well, all the things you would actually need to cook with.  As these items were sorely lacking before his arrival, we were all quite pleased to make room in the kitchen for his things.  Many made grand gestures of moving chemistry projects, jig saws, paint etc.. to make room for a real kitchen.  Then - we ate.. real food.  Whoa. 
As I mentioned the "college house for wayward rock stars startups " was the perfect place for parties and after one particularly raucous evening my soon to be husband flipped his shit when he went down into the kitchen to see his precious knives and tools scattered all over the kitchen.  When he discovered that someone had used one of his knives to pry up the kitchen counter - it was all over. 
Everything got packed up and locked - yes LOCKED- into a trunk never to be shared again.  One of the things that got locked into the kitchen trunk, may not have been ours.  In fact, it definitely wasn't (a hand held can opener with the name Matt written on it in black sharpie marker).  We stole it.  I stole it.  Matt asked for it but we denied knowing what happened to it.  We kept the opener.  And even now I use it every week... almost 20 years later.  Matt's can opener reminds me of the fun we had, and the trouble we could cause and what it was like to learn to get along with people.

I love some of the things I have stolen.  They make me happy.  Am I the only one?