Treasures

I have a few boxes I keep hidden away in the closet even thought they're full of beloved treasures -- this is because, while I love these treasures, I wouldn't have the concentration to think if I lived in a house where all these things were not kept in boxes.  Instead of thinking of them as being hidden away in a closet, I try to think of them as being kept in treasure boxes.  Over the weekend I had to delve into a couple of these boxes while looking for a photo album I really needed, and here, I have selected a few unearthed treasures to share:

My grandpa gave this to me and my husband the day before our wedding -- i may be a little confused but i think it's a commemorative George Gershwin envelope that he sent to Gershwin's son to have signed. 

These are a couple pages from a full diary my mom bought me at a flea market when i was a teenager.  It is  "Line A Day" diary -- its title page says "copyrighted 1892, by samuel ward company, Boss, MA.  The entries are from 1924 -25.  I like this page.  It says (it's hard to read this scanned copy):  "Ed telephoned that ? ? is very ill.  We tel. ? ? ? she is better but are very anxious. 
Wed 19.  "Maid died in night of diabetes.  Dr. Sherrite attended to everything.  (can't read the rest, except the last line), Feeling fine."

Thursday 19.  "Little Lola a darling and Murray red-cheeked.  All to supper and all to bed early."

The above 3 images are the back cover of one of my journals from 2001, my last year as an undergrad at the notorious Evergreen State College in Olympia WA, along w/ a poem i wrote in it, and a little torn scrap from a receipt for a "China Gate" in Seattle.  My left handed handwriting is atrocious so here's the transcription of the poem, which in places seems a little prophetic:



Though you're killing me
I am having a good time
I am young and that is fine
I will be chubby someday.

And though you still think that I am pretty
and though you still think that I am witty
It's that I'm sly and full of pity
You don't love me.

The moon's a frog old Huck Finn says
The shriners ride by in their fezes
and in a room of vintage dresses
you're saying goodbye.

And by and by the world gets married
and I am a bachelor, it's scary,
and by and by I start to die and then
am buried.

Some will remember me as a teen
who wore black skirts and lived in a dream
and cried when Cobain burst on the scene
and then got Prozac.

Some will remember me as a feminist
and some will remember I sucked their dicks
and some will remember I wasn't this sick
when i was a baby in my home.

This is my last walk down treasure box memory lane for today.  This is my absolute favorite zine every, by Nikki McClure.  It's from ages ago, and I hope she's reprinted it since, because it's so wonderful.  I idolize her writing in this zine and was looking forward to becoming besties w/ her when I moved up to Oly, but the devil had other plans for me, like that I'd masquerade as a boy crazy beer-guzzler and not someone worthy to ascend into her immediate social circle.

more later,
oxo,
Robin