#12 Hemp Bracelet

Originally uploaded by PackRatty McRatterson

Robbie was a regular at the Blue Moon. He was always drawing pictures and he had a ridiculous brown hat. He was usually the first friendly face I'd run into when I came into town. He was the first person I ever had a conversation with at the Moon. It was about Cat Stevens.

One weekend, Robbie wasn't there. Rumor was that he had thrown all his possessions off a cliff and had gone to do a long-term missionary trip in Tibet. Such an odd, grandiose story! Probably all lies. But he was gone for a loooong time.

One night, Robbie Showed up out of the blue with his guitar and kick drum. When his set came up, he proceeded to play and play and nobody minded. He played for a half hour after the shop was officially closed. Everyone was teary. It was the most honest I had ever seen him play. At one point, a boy walked up to him and said he wanted Robbie to have something, that it was all he could give to thank him.

I never did get the real story from Robbie. But he did pass the boy's gift on to me, saying he was allergic to hemp.

I haven't actually run out of things.

Oh boy, no way. Far from it. my flickr stream is here:  http://www.flickr.com/photos/57959287@N05/ in case you want to peruse what's coming up soonish. I'm wondering which objects people would like to hear about first. Please comment and let me know if there's something you're curious about.

I have yet to upload many photos, and I have yet to photograph many things :)

I have been so excited about the present and about the future lately, it has been hard to slip into introspective nostalgia mode. Plus I am still getting over an ear infection :(

I will be working/playing in Seattle for a few days starting Sunday, and I don't want to worry about online things very much. So. I haven't given up, but I am going to be away.

Meanwhile, if you happen to have a submission done for some reason and would like to send it to me, the address is packratmemoirs@gmail.com. I'll need a decent photo, and approximately 200 words. I'd like your real name, but you can decide how you're credited in the post. If you send this stuff to me, you are giving me permission to use it here, and to upload your photos to my Flickr account. Just so's you know.

Have a good week or so <3

#11 My Melody Scissors

Originally uploaded by PackRatty McRatterson

These are the best scissors I have ever owned. I have had them since I was around 3. I don't know if they were technically a gift or a hand-me-down, but they were given to me by a cousin.

When I was little, I perceived these scissors as being magical in some way. They were definitely Precious, and they never got taken to school or to a friend's house. I did not share them- I knew if they got broken or lost, I wouldn't be getting more. I was in complete awe of my cousin. I assumed she must have tons of money to be able to have (and then give away) something so nice ALL THE WAY FROM JAPAN.

Remember how the world was before the internet and Ebay? Remember how things from Japan seemed really exotic? Remember how hard it was to get a hold of anything from another country unless you actually traveled there, or had friends overseas who could mail you things? Crazy, huh?

They are really quite well made for children's scissors. Note how discolored they are. See how much I used them? They're still fairly sharp. Alas, my hands are too big to maneuver them efficiently.

#10 Blue Phone

Originally uploaded by PackRatty McRatterson

When I moved into my first place, I didn't have a phone. Well, I did. But the ringer was broken. I could call out in an emergency, that was good enough for me. I used to pick up the receiver a few times a day, just for fun. Sometimes, there would actually be people calling me. It was great. I felt like Yoko Ono.

This annoyed my friends. Some more than others. Colin was in the Air Force, stationed in Japan. He was always threatening to buy me a phone. One day, I got a mysterious box in the mail. I rolled my eyes, but had to admit it was pretty cool, for a phone. It was blue like the brand new iMacs were :)

Every time I looked at it, it annoyed me. Until September 11th, 2001. On that day, if Colin hadn't called to reassure me that everything was fine, I would have freaked out a lot more. In the days following, he called me almost daily. He used all of his phone time on me, until his mom got mad.

That period of our friendship was the closest. It's one of the parts I miss most.

#9 Green Chair Buttons

Originally uploaded by PackRatty McRatterson

The Blue Moon Coffee Company in Neenah was the first place I ever felt "at home". In high school, I traveled there at least one weekend a month, once I was old enough to drive. I'd sit in the green chair if it was open, and I'd write and write and write until familiar faces started filling the room. For me, it was such an important part of the atmosphere. The atmosphere in that place was like a living thing.

Slowly, it got creakier and more stained (in those days, you could still smoke in coffee houses). The scratchy 1950's upholstery became more and more threadbare. The buttons got really loose. Two years in a coffee house had really taken their toll on that poor chair.

Sensing it was on its last legs, I sketched out the pattern of its fabric, planning to get that as my first tattoo. I snipped off a loose button when nobody was looking so I could carry a bit of it with me. I came back a month later, and the chair was gone. A friend had cut off another button for me when he saw the chair sticking out of the dumpster, so I had a pair.

They still smell like stale clove cigarettes.

In case you were wondering

I took the weekend off. I decided that getting rid of roughly 10- 15 cubic feet of stuff on Saturday morning was good enough for this weekend :)

I'll see you tomorrow for another thing post. Promise.

#8 Baseball Hall Pass

Originally uploaded by PackRatty McRatterson

I had a really rough time during high school. Somewhere in between the poop in my locker and a teacher inciting violence against me, I had had enough. The day my principal screamed in my face that I was "too stupid for advanced classes", I walked out. Nobody really reached out until I had been gone for more than a month. Then one day, I got a letter from my English teacher.

I won't disclose exactly what it said, but it motivated me to go through the process of finding the right psychologist who worked as an advocate for me. I went back to school. I still struggled to make myself go or care, but I felt much better knowing that *someone* in a position of authority cared about me, and saw what was going on.

His class ruined Shakespeare for me forever, but he saved my life.

He hated grackles. His hall pass was a baseball. I had autographed it at some point because I was a smartass. On the last day of school, he tracked me down and gave it to me.

He died days later, before I had a chance to tell him (or before I had grown up enough to realize) what his letter had done.