I write about my life and life itself seen through my eyes for who can write through the experiences of others if not their own?

Sunday, May 10, 2009

Rock of Ages

I liked New Paltz since the first time I visited it 3 or 4 years ago. I ran a 5K there then. It was all down hill ahhhhh - and it ended at a fantastic brewer and Pub.


I like it here. The main street has an air of bohemia. The stores are…hippish. Long skirts of colorful fabrics hung on the windows, unknown painters sell their masterpieces in stores of strange names and unknown artists sing on the sidewalk. There is a cafĂ© with old sofas and couches and soft music. Students walk in with their laptops and…study? Maybe. It is different.

There are a few antique stores on the main strip. Antiques have never interested me. I can’t find any enthusiasm in overpriced greenish bottles even if depressionary. When I walk into an antique store I have that fear that I am going to fall…I’m clumsy. In my vision, I see myself in my fall holding on to a stand and bringing down with me enormous amounts of glass that come shattering down all over me. Not a pleasant vision.

Regardless, I visited an antique store while on this town today. It was amazing. Credenzas filled with gadgets in an array of different shapes and types placed close together with no uniformity or consistency. As I moved away from the cast irons, I found interesting items. A golden cup used during the Eucharistic caught my attention. I noticed the cross on the lid. Hmmm, for a second I thought I could buy it and use it as a wine cup, would it be sacrilegious? It was being sold at an antique store after all but to be on the safe side, I walked away from it.

I began noticing items that were familiar to me…a typewriter like the one my school had, a downstrike model that probably dated to many decades before I got to use it. I saw a meat grinder like the one my grandmother used. A metal fan like the one I had in my bedroom, a point knit handkerchief reminded me of the ones I was forced to make in art class, a challenge for a person who never had any artistic talent. All these items are desirable to some!

I didn't know that what I had in a third world country when I was growing up because we couldn’t afford more is actually sold at extravagant prices here. After all those years feeling deprived, I never knew we were such debonair!

And now I am realizing that my era belongs in an antique store…I should start filing for an ARP card soon.
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