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I could make this an easy column for me by merely listing my favorite things and asking you to decide which, if any, are the same as yours, but where’s the challenge in that?
I can already hear the rustling of the newspaper page (being turned away smartly) in response to that choice. Many of you already know my usual aim is to ask you to think, not just slide through subject matters without including some deeper thought.
That doesn’t mean I’m just going to list my favorite things here, but will, in addition, try to share how they are the catalysts for feeling November has a special ability to bring closure to things of our pleasure, both seasonal and otherwise.
My method of continuing to enjoy favorite things may seem slightly odd, but keep in mind personal choices vary widely and often swing in and out of favor with the arrival of new things or the bothersome disappearances of old things.
If you haven’t already figured out an alternative manner of how to rescue your favorite things, I suggest choosing a place where you can assemble a pleasing visual display of them, including the location of other things needing to be kept elsewhere, such as plants.
I selected a not-so-pretty but serviceable multi-shelf bookcase for my display area brought with me from my former home.
There is no clearly definable method to describing the madness involved in arranging the contents. The success uniquely belongs to anyone intent on savoring memorable things and remaining dedicated to producing a pleasurable result.
My bookcase is already full and occasionally I must rearrange (pick up and return) items to their former locations, but the reward of accomplishment is great.
Herein (for lack of a better definition) is a description of several items on display:
A tiny Hawaiian hula doll who doesn’t dance anymore because my young son, long ago, danced her once too often. His dad won her at a county fair by knocking over cement bottles, or something.
A cherished book “Brenda Starr-Girl Reporter” given to me by my mother in 1943 as I began to show interest in writing stories.
A butterfly broach with multiple yellow glass baubles that I gave my grandma for her birthday; she wore it until her death shortly thereafter.
A small round silver ashtray purchased at the Wisconsin Dells on the honeymoon trip. Neither of us smoked, but it was only a dollar.
A small cardboard box of scented powder given to my mother by my father at Christmas time, while they were “seeing” each other; it still smells sweetly.
That’s just a small portion of the things on the top shelf.
The most unusual item is a small, fluted, gold-splashed ceramic candy bowl given to me by my father-in-law, on my birthday in the late 1950’s. He was known as never giving gifts …only cash … until that time.
Lois Eckhardt may be reached at P.O. Box 413, Wellman, IA 52356.