A La Recherche du Temps Perdu

At one point in my life I could and did read Marcel Proust in French. Translated it means "in search of time lost" or "remembrance of things past". I have been on a lifelong quest to remember things past. It all started with the the shelves loaded with books in my grandparents' attic...books dating back to the 1800. I loved those books...I loved reading those books. Curled up in a big chair reading by the light of a...you guessed it...old floor lamp. HEAVEN!!! My uncle's French text book dated 1936 or so was my first introduction to the beauty of the language...a biography of Lincoln...the MY BOOK HOUSE series from the 1920's. I loved the way my grandparents bought things once and used them forever. The green jadite dish ware, their maple kitchen dining set...my grandfather's watch...my grandmother's hand mixer...their cookware which my mother now uses. Everything in their home made me feel safe...secure...I knew that big chair and all of those books would always be in the attic waiting for me...I knew our hot cereal would always be served in those wonderful green jadite bowls. My sister, Liza, and I share this love of everything old. Our homes are filled with things that used to be our grandparents...or someone else's grandparents! Our children tease us...our husbands have gotten used to it...the chairs that wobble...the dishes from any year but the year we live in...hand turned nut grinders...Worlds Fair Blenders...the original...not the reproduction. And so my pleasure in visiting Edison's lab with all of that old equipment should begin to make sense. Like, say, my kitchen scale...

When I first met my husband he thought he would "upgrade"my lifestyle to "new". New home, new kitchen, new floors and new anything else I had that was old. He couldn't imagine I actually liked all of this old stuff I had surrounded myself with. When we bought our first house together, an old beach house in NJ, he envisioned gutting it and creating a modern open home. I envisioned...well...nothing of the kind! After a few months of waking up in our home he rolled over one morning and said "You know...I get it...I've come to appreciate waking up and seeing the original woodwork in our bedroom and knowing that it has been there since 1890 and generations before me have woken up and appreciated it, too. I get it." How did I know he really got it? Because he bought this old kitchen scale we found in PA. He knows I use a scale when cooking and had been frustrated in trying to find one. As we walked out of the shop, I knew he understood the comfort I get from "saving" these wonderful items that fill our home. I've given them a new home...saved them from life on a shelf in a shop...and hopefully, one day, my children will welcome some, although I expect, not all of them, into their own homes.

This photo is of the face of the scale my husband gave me...which I treasure, love and use. By the way, when we restored and renovated our house, I got an new old kitchen...and Ron got new kitchen appliances...which I put to good use using all of my old kitchen stuff!