My Favorite Things

When shit happens….

“I simply remember my favorite things

And then I don’t feel so bad”

My apologies to Julie Andrews for cherry-picking her lyrics, but it works for me. It’s the “ favorite things” helping her to feel better that I relate to. I have things that I love and  bring me comfort because they remind me of a positive memory or feeling. Although Inanimate  and non-living they seem human to me. My word-nerd self found that “personification” means attributing human characteristics to inanimate and non-living things. For example,  “ My car died.” and“ The dishes keep staring at me, begging me to wash them.” My Mom told me that when I couldn’t find a sock it “walked off”! Missing socks felt like a conspiracy to me. I was never good at playing hide and seek. One year for Halloween I sent my son out as the sock monster, with a hundred socks pinned all over him and a sign saying “ I have your missing sock.” I’m not sure he really got it, but I did.

The things I love aren’t antiques or valuable, but they are valuable to me and  seem human to me. My Pillsbury Doughboy is over 50 years old ( he’s as old as I am). I love him partly because of the commercial he starred in.  I remember when he was poked in his belly he had this sweet little laugh. When I see him on my windowsill, I also see my Mom kneading bread and smell the bread just out of the oven. I couldn’t wait to cut a thick slice, slather butter on it and watch it melt in. I could see,smell and taste the bread. I got a large wicker basket with a lid on it for my first dorm room, in 1970. It’s been a lot of places and seen a lot of things through the years. I still use it as a night stand and “home” is what it holds, no matter the geography. When I see it I know “I’m home. I don’t even know what’s in it now, but it doesn’t matter. I have a small figure sculpted  of nuts and bolts and he is holding a heavy metal heart. I like to think he’s offering his heart to me in case mine gets broken. He’s been with me for I don’t even know how long. He’s in a place where I see him a lot through out the day. I notice that I use the pronoun “he” when I talk about him and I guess it’s the nuts and bolt thing. I don’t know his gender at birth. My son came home from daycare 37 years ago with mama bear and Tyler-bear paper figures stapled together.  Now they are very faded but the staple still holds.  It’s the staple I love…it connects me to my son.

A penny for your thoughts? In my life it’s a dime for your thoughts. My late husband Roger had this weird thing about finding dimes. No other coins around it…just a single dime. When we were out walking he’d almost shove me out of the way to get to a dime he saw. We laughed about it and it became his thing. He made quite a pile of dimes. When he was dying I asked him to keep sending me dimes to let me know he was taking care of me. He hasn’t let me down yet. I get dimes from heaven. He leaves dimes for me everywhere. I remember one particular day I was anxious and grieving , and I parked in a big lot and opened my car door- and there on the concrete was a single dime. I thank him for each dime I find. Sometimes I joke with him and tell him inflation means he should leave me twenties. Not everyone believes that our loved ones communicate with us after death, but I believe.