Monday, August 3, 2015


Now and then when a witty and beloved aunt came to visit, she’d come into the room bearing aloft some new artifact or cherished heirloom, describing it as one of my trophies. During the same period, I found myself at the beach with an older friend who happened to mention that her husband had been late getting up to Western Washington because he was stowing his art collection at Bekins. 

I must have hesitated, because Barbara added that the possessions that are truly meaningful will never be stolen, since they seem insignificant to others. At that point, Jeff came into the cabin displaying a substantial hunk of verdigris on the flat palm of one hand. He nearly convinced me that the piece was a precious work of Asian bronze. It probably was, but more precious to someone in an engine room than to another collector.


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