Comments on: The Wine Opener

By: Abbie

Abbie — Wed, 03 Dec 2008 14:45:27 +0000

It’s so full of character.

By: diva

diva — Fri, 14 Nov 2008 09:48:59 +0000

amazing writing. and so moving. love the wine opener. it’s very beautiful. x

By: Cakelaw

Cakelaw — Thu, 13 Nov 2008 11:06:40 +0000

What a beautiful post! For me, I think of the grandmother that I never knew every time that I see Amy Schauer’s preserving and confectionary cookbook. My mother often made Russian caramels and lemon cheese from this book, which belonged to her mother, and I was delighted to find my own copy on eBay so that I could make a small but significant link to the past.

By: White on Rice Couple

White on Rice Couple — Wed, 12 Nov 2008 22:56:06 +0000

We have to second what Victoria said. Thanks for keeping such wonderful comments coming in. It is beautiful how so many have shared a part of their lives. This is one of those times where the beauty of the comments overwhelm that of the original post. Please keep sharing. Thanks everyone!

By: Victoria

Victoria — Wed, 12 Nov 2008 15:44:31 +0000

I have come back regularly to read the comments as they came in. They are all truly wonderful. Little vignettes shared with the rest us. Sometimes when I’m in a crowd I look around and think all these lives, all these lives, all their stories. Thanks to everyone who commented and to you, Todd, for telling us about Atla!

By: TavoLini

TavoLini — Wed, 12 Nov 2008 13:43:56 +0000

What a great post!

I have a house full of reminders–I inherited most of the furniture. Books and bookshelves from my great grandmother, a rocking chair from my great grandfather, a sofa, some scarves, a jacket from my grandparents. They’re never very far from me.

By: Rebecca (Foodie With Family)

Rebecca (Foodie With Family) — Tue, 11 Nov 2008 17:23:07 +0000

When I was little, I regularly begged my Dad to play Triominos with me. It was not a fancy game. In fact, it was pretty raggedy. He had painted the worn white numbers back on the black plastic many times with nail polish, white out, or whatever he could find. The box had long since disintigrated and he kept the back panel with the rules printed on it folded up in a little plastic bag with the game pieces.

His office was in our home and he kept the game stashed up on a high shelf out of reach of little fingers. Occasionally, he would bring the game down and we would have wonderful times playing the strategy game that was made more appealing to me by the mystery of why it was only available to me at Dad’s whim.

I never really understood why the game was so protected until this past year. When my Dad and step-mom were moving, they left a few boxes in our possession to watch for them. Val, my stepmom, informed me we could raid the box that contained the board games. When I opened the box I found the coveted Triominos game in a new resealable plastic bag with the same old box instructions. I ran into the house, promptly played four rounds with my kids and called my Dad to thank him.

It turned out that he didn’t mean to leave it here. But I finally learned why it meant so much to him. It had been his mother’s game. He lost her when he was 18 years old (his father had passed when he was 7.) He told me to play with it because a game is no good unplayed, but to take care of it for him. It’s now tucked up on a hard-to-reach shelf and enjoys the same vaunted status for my kids that it did for me. …And I like it that way.

By: Jescel

Jescel — Tue, 11 Nov 2008 05:57:07 +0000

that is one beautiful cork opener that reflects your grandma’s personality…. i have one precious item that i keep myself. an antique watch that was my mom’s when she was single. my mom passed away last year from breast cancer, so that watch reminds me a lot of her. the watch doesn’t work anymore but it’s a keepsake that reminds me of her.

By: Lori Lynn

Lori Lynn — Mon, 10 Nov 2008 03:19:32 +0000

Oh what a neat post. My food blog has inspired me to share some stories about my family and to ask questions. In doing so it has propelled me to ask my mother about those who are not here on the planet any longer, and to probe her memories. Definitely something of value that may have never been asked, but for a food blog.

Alta’s wine key is a treasure for sure. You made me think back, and I am certain that neither of my grandmothers drank wine. Now I have to go ask my mother.

By: White on Rice Couple

White on Rice Couple — Mon, 10 Nov 2008 00:53:03 +0000

I wanted to thank everyone for sharing a bit of their lives. You all have such touching stories about your lives, from those that made us smile to those that brought a few tears. I don’t know if I can look at some of the things you shared the same way again. Hand painted eggs, imagining a map with a sailor’s journey (waiting to return to his love), eggs – bacon – and chai, a pair of white & blue sneakers, the assortment of things filling one’s home, an old camera and books on the shelf, a bourbon and apple pie (I love that one), a pizzelle maker and a handwritten notebook, colored pyrex mixing bowls (grandma had one of those, too), a unique cowboy hat, the recipes one shares with us, and the pictures we see. Everywhere in life we are surrounded by people’s memories and love, mostly without even knowing about it. But for this brief moment a humanity photo has focused in and captured some exquisite details for anyone watching to see. Thanks for taking the photos of the inside of your souls, everyone.