old

Great Grandpa Peter Cleary

I like old things. old people, stories, antiques, the sound of a record player, forgotten languages, moth-eaten sweaters, good memories, and tarnished silver.


In an effort to be thrifty and spruce up our condo, I've repainted every single frame we own gold, and have dug up some terrific old family photos.


I am filling our makeshift mantle (short bookshelf), and the wall behind it, with these golden memories.


I'm fortunate to have intricate family trees on my mom and dad's side (Scottish pride), and I have this idea to buy old-looking parchment and create my own handwritten family tree, combining the two sides, possibly sketching a map of Scotland behind it, noting where family members lived overtime.


It's had me thinking about going to Scotland again. My good friend Bridget is going in April. And my cousin Litty just went for her first time...needless to say, it's making me want to go. Sometimes I think I really ought to travel to new places, but I just love it there so much. I've thought about what it would take for my cousins and I to pool our money together and buy our great grandpa Cleary's house. How sad it will be when it is eventually torn down and replaced by something new.

All this to say, i've been thinking about why i'm attracted to older things, and I think I romanticize the past. Sometimes I feel like nothing can ever be as good as it used to. But my challenge to myself is to have affection for the present, while adoring the past.