Identity in our modern world is a tricky thing. Our financial identity is vulnerable to theft with all the trails we leave behind via social security number and driver's license. And yet it can be so specific with DNA maps and all the scientific/medical indicators. I was aghast at recent news reports of a beautiful model's murder in the pacific northwest that told of her body having been butchered by her murderer removing her hands and teeth so that fingerprints and dental records would not identify her. One report said her ID was made based on her breast implants!
When our moderator/guide/leader, Robyn, posted the prompt for Chapter 2 of this week's The Artist's Way book group, right away I had a mental image of an object illustrative of my identity, but it's so hopelessly vintage/out of date/passe I couldn't even FIND an image on Yahoo Search to share with my written post. I guess it's too far back in time for a jpg file to exist, even in a nostalgic old-timer type website. So I guess I'll have to paint a word picture and still some of you young'uns won't even get it.
Soda pop used to come in bottles, real glass ones instead of those plastic bubbles ranging 16, 20 and 24 ounces and 1 or 2 liters or 12 ounce cans or now those short little squatty versions. There were vending machines for them in hardware and drug stores and outside gas stations and in the laundrymat with glass doors that you could view the bottles lying side by side by side, their tin caps with their product logos pointing at you as you approached. For a child it was fascinating to watch the bottles roll on their perfectly engineered tilt to replace themselves when one was pulled from it's dispenser slot behind the door. Always on the floor next to the vending machine would be 2 stacks of wooden cases - one for empties and one for refilling the machine - with 24 little squares separating the bottles to keep them from clanging together and chipping or breaking as they rode on the trucks that would transport them to all those machines. Usually the uppermost case would be a random mix of cola, diet cola, root beer, red pop, orange pop, creme soda, lemon lime, and maybe grape. That uppermost restock case is the very image of my identity...with its random mix of bottle shapes, colors and flavors.
I am part child, daughter, grand daughter, sister, niece, aunt, grandmother, friend, student, co-worker, team player, fan, performer, woman, wife, mother, writer, quilter, lover, housekeeper, gardener, empty nester, philanthropist, care giver, teacher, builder, citizen, cook, leader, follower, activist, seeker, believer, home body, wanderer and wonderer. 31 flavors - plus! (Oh, if only you could see the big self-righteous smirky grin that puts on my face to say. My ex once actually said I was merely 'vanilla'. How little did HE know!)
My afterthought images representing my identity have been my grandmother's old button box tin full of every color and size and shape buttons I could imagine and I remember just loving to dip my hands in and lift handfuls of them and just let them 'rain' back into the tin and equally randomly colorful and amazing was another tin full of embroidery flosses...neither of which do I have photos of except in my head. : (
I think I'll be playing Carole King's "TAPESTRY" in the studio today...
17 hours ago
11 comments:
Very nice imagery. I followed along just fine. I remember the machines, and what a treat it was for Granddaddy to buy us a bottle of "co-cola," as he called it, but don't recall the restock box.
Maybe this is a flash of your embroidery floss? The messy Before shot, not the organized After.
http://www.cherlon.com/?p=86
I remember glass bottles of soda. In fact, I think I still have an old Dr. Pepper bottle hidden away under the sink. "Tapestry" sounds wonderful to me. I may join you.
Love this post..very real and vintage. Thanks for sharing
Gosh it is amazing how evocative concrete details from memory can be ... your post takes me right to certain places in a flash. The wooden cases! Yes! My grandmother had a box full of various sewing things that were very mysterious, tho I love the image of the buttons raining through your fingers better than my own memories of my grandmothers box! ANd when you say "tapestry" I can hear my next-door neighbor singing "so far away" as we sat on our bikes at the top of the big hill.
Thank you. Reading this post almost counts as an artist date for me!
Great images. I remember the old wooden soda boxes and glass bottles.
Definately 31 flavors!
I know why he's your ex (vanilla really)LOL
beautif imagery..i had a Coca Cola out of a vintage machine in the Antique Distric in our historic area
I remember those old soda bottles, and I even remember when a bottle of soda cost 5 cents! And I used to play in the button box, too. I liked to string them together and make "necklaces"....now I'm off to search for my copy of Tapestry!
oh the buttons! they bought back memories of a huge tin of buttons my nan had in her linen cupboard, what a treat it was when we visited and were allowed to play with them. fantastic post!
I am very glad you were unable to find those images on line because then you wouldn't have done this great writing.
It means that for me, while I absolutely can relate to the same images, I wouldn't have done so with fondness unless you had pulled me along memory lane with those perfect words of yours.
I love vanilla. It's the basis for so many wonderful creations. And, I think that's what you must be.
What wonderful imagery! I have such fond memories involving both the crates of soda bottles and the box of random buttons. What beautiful, evocative images of your diversity.
Oh wonderful post!! No vanilla for you girl!!! Yay to 31 flavors!! I loved the post. I loved my grandmother's button collections. You brought back such wonderful memories of me doing the same thing. Beautifully writen post! Hugs, Sarah
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