Back to People of the Book for a Minute

You might recall my earlier post on
People of the Book.
There's a small mention in the book about the main character's philosophy of book preservation.

The character, Hanna Heath, says that she doesn't restore books, she preserves them. When she works with an old book she does whatever work needs to be done on it to keep it held together and to slow or even halt its aging. What she doesn't do is fix, replace and touch it up so that it looks like it did when it left the original bookbinder. Her mentor taught her that the scars left on the book have become part of its story and to take them away is to change or hide the book's story.

That is such a good illustration of my own philosophy of old things. I look at an old desk and all it's scuff marks, dents, carvings and scrapes and it tells me the story of all the people who used that desk before me. I imagine them working at that desk, making plans, calculating costs, recording dreams, taking in stories, all the things that I do at that desk, and I feel connected to their story. I want to get an old stove or dry sink to keep our backpacks and shoes in.

I love old things that belonged to other people and old things that were originally mine.

It's so hard for me to get rid of some of my possessions because there are so many stories wrapped up in those items. I know that the story is still part of me, but the thing helps to tell the story. I once teared up as I threw away a VERY worn out pair of red flats. I have a sweater that I never wear because it is coming apart at the cuffs and collar, but I just can't let it go.

My attachment isn't limited to clothes either. I have a massive dresser that I have had since I was kid. Actually there are two dressers, and even though they are large and dark and don't really fit in the rooms where they are, I just can't let them go. I've never tried to change how they look or even put on new pulls so that they all match. I do have to say though, they show very little of the wear that you would expect from such old pieces of furniture (They were used when they came to me as a kid.) because they are so well made. I think they date back to when making furniture was still an art. Come on! Who could let something like that go?

I hope that as I get older- forty is right around the corner- that I get to apply this philosophy to myself. I hope I like all the marks that living leaves on me and that I don't try to hide or remove them. I hope that as I look at myself and others and see those signs of aging, that I see stories and wonderfully rich histories. After all, smooth, new and perfect has no story yet, whether we're talking people or chairs. I sure hope my love of story beats out vanity.