Monday, February 1st, 2010

image of ashtrayIt is an ashtray, but I haven’t taken up smoking.

It’s an ashtray exactly like one my parents had for years and years. For all I know, Mom might still have it. Or, this might be that very ashtray.

I was wandering the aisles of Saint Vincent de Paul’s thrift store on Willy Street when my eye happened to fall on this. Not literally. That would be pretty yucky. I’d have to find a way to wash it off and stick it back in, and I’m pretty sure I would be too panicked to do any of that.

My hand reached out to pick it up without my having to tell it to. It had made up my mind for me. I was going to buy this ash tray.

There are some little baubles that take you back, aren’t there? Even when it makes no sense at all. I mean, an ash tray. Really. I’m guessing my parents would grimace at the notion that an ash tray would remind me so powerfully of my childhood, but maybe not. That was back when everybody smoked and there were ashtrays everywhere. And this one was in our house. Or one just like this one.

Footnote: I wonder if I’m the only American over forty who’s never smoked? I asked The Google, but it doesn’t know.

bauble | 2:25 pm CDT
Category: daily drivel, random idiocy, story time
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