Can I just take a moment to chat about the fabulousness of petnames? More than ever I've been noticing the nicknames floating around me. For example, Nat the Fat Rat (check out her blog, btw--link is on right side of webpage) has nicknamed her husband "The Holbs." My cousin has nicknamed A's and my future offspring "Ware babies." Somehow I've managed to nickname nearly every one of my friends Paul Rudd style in "I Love you, Man." There's "B-by" and "Greerby" and "cANNEd"...and those are just their most recent namesakes. My brother's been "Camouflage" and "Camshaft" and "Cammy-coo Culkin." What is it about petnames that's so great? It's easy as 1, 2, 3... 1) They imply a familiarity, a closeness, in that only a select few know or understand or feel comfortable calling someone by a nickname. They're connective. 2) They carry more weight than one's "public name" in that there are layers of meaning underlying a nickname--inside jokes, particular memories and/or reasons for that nickname's creation. 3) They can be humorous, doting, impulsive, private--they include tones and emotions a "public name" does not. And last but not least, 4) They're happy-makers. Being called by a nickname or calling someone else by a nickname is fun. It makes us feel like we're fun-loving, word-loving people. Lightens the mood, if you will. With that being said, go out, my nicknameable people, and call each other freely, creatively, and wittily! I believe there's a Paul Rudd in all of us...I love you, Bro Montana. Totally...Totes McGoats.
Also, I'm introducing a new addition to my blog: "Daily Dose of Dillies," which are one-a-day noticings/ponderings... Today's: Heirlooms.
A lot has happened this year, not the least which was my Poppy's death this past July. After his funeral, my Nanny took me into his closet and told me to pick out some of his favorite western shirts. I picked out three that I'd seen him wear--a purple plaid, a white with gold stitching, and a tan with a wheat stalk pattern. They're in my closet now.
After A and I got engaged, all sorts of family heirlooms came out of the woodwork. A's grandparents' porcelain couple statue/wedding cake topper. My parents' wedding cake knife and their ring-bearer pillow...It was actually in search of said pillow that my mom found the peridot rings she wore all through college--peridots the color of shallow water set in 14K gold. She gave them to me, and I'm wearing them right now, in fact :)
And moving into our first house, A's mom gifted us a million heirlooms--A's great-grandpa's childhood rocking chair, her own breadbox from the late 1970s, various old soda pop bottles, vintage Samsonite luggage sets, A's grandma's hand-painted porcelain jewelry tray and some doilies she crocheted herself...to name a few.
The more I see these objects and touch them, the more I understand their worth. It's as A's mom told me (she mostly shops at thrift stores and so brings home and/or gifts other people's stuff a lot)...used objects house their previous owners' presences, their energies (sounds hokey, I know, but I think she's on to something here). And because these objects house energies, she makes sure to welcome them to her home and offers her blessings upon them..."To clear the air," as she says. I think she put into words exactly how I see heirlooms--as relics of people. Getting dressed in the morning, I see Poppy's shirts and smile, nod hello to them. Taking off my jewelry, I finger the paint on A's grandma's porcelain tray and suddenly feel connected to her, like I'm part of that family's lineage now. By placing these objects around my house, I'm inviting their owners' presences into my life. And I like to think that I'm helping keep their energies alive by looking at them, touching them, using them. There's something wonderful about walking into my empty house and feeling like it's full.
Do YOU have any objects that are alive?
*image from britannica.com
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