August, 2005
every object still tells a story

For three years I've made a monthly attempt to allow the objects that seem to perpetually fill my shelves, my desk, my pockets, my home, a chance to tell something about themselves ... and of course about me. Not too long ago I thought that I was running out of objects that merited this attention. Today I know what was probably obvious back then as well - that there will always be more.

These objects tell their stories on a number of levels. Some have a personal, an almost private story to tell. Others reflect their times - the experiences of many others, not only my own. More often than not, objects that seem imminently forgettable, that are rather bland, unprepossessing, hold within them stories - both personal and public - that, at least to the bearers of those stories, are worth telling.


Although it's in mint condition, I doubt that anyone could find any reason to hold on to an AM radio of this sort. I received it, a number of years ago, from my mother who was convinced that it could be "useful" (or something like that). I find it hard to believe that she was still able to buy a radio of this sort when she did - even back then (though I'm not sure just when "then" was) miniature AM/FM radios with "real" earphones were probably being given away for free at children's birthday parties. But Mom basically listened to one station on the radios she owned, and radios of this sort were, to her mind, not only just as good as any other, but probably what she identified as a "real" radio.


And of course it wasn't only when it came to listening to music that Mom was a bit behind the curve when it came to technological advances. In general, her approach to technological innovation seemed to be a sort of Amish-like (and admittedly healthy) "but this gets the job done for me" attitude. Her kitchen as well was in many ways an archeological find.