People collect a lot of things in life and some are more unique than others. Some collections have monetary value and others sentimental value. Some people collect anything and everything, and others are very specific about the things they save.
I could tell you I'm not a collector, but that wouldn't be true. I've had a few collections in my day. When growing up, I collected rocks and stamps and just about anything I thought was unique and important.
I hate to admit it, but my sister and I, when we were very young, each even had in metal Band-Aid boxes collections of wood chips knocked loose and felled to the ground as a result of woodpeckers looking for insects in rotting trees and telephone poles -- probably not a lot of value there, but having the most or the biggest chunks counted for something way back when.
I've given up collecting now, but I have saved thousands of photographic images and have more old film cameras than I'd like to admit. And, Mrs. Griz has on occasion accused me of collecting old computers, but it's mostly spare parts to keep going the ones I use each day or to rescue one from destruction to get it up and running again and pass it on to someone in need.
Unfortunately for me, and maybe for my kids if they have any hopes of an inheritance, the things I've inadvertently collected are priceless. I'm not quite ready to put a price on them and no one would give me a price for them if I did. That means, I suppose, my kids will be left with the added burden of disposal since what I valued too much to throw away has no value to anyone else.
Mrs. Griz is a collector too. Don't tell her I said so. But the shelves she's made me clean off in the garage by getting rid of some of my collections are now full with stuff she has collected.
But Mrs. Griz has an even more unique collection. It's different from the trinkets and dishes she has saved. She saves hands. In fact, we have one wall in the living room full of them. No, she's not a hand hunter in the sense of the tribal head hunters. She takes and collects photographs of hands.
That may sound like a funny collection, about like saving wood chips knocked loose by a woodpecker, but it's really kind of artistic.
It all started when she took a cell phone photo of her hand holding that of her sister, who was dying of ovarian cancer. She had me convert that image to a black and white and get it printed and framed. She wished she had taken a photo of her holding her mother's hand too, while she was yet alive. But Mrs. Griz has had me take photos of her aunt's hand in hers, my hand holding hers, and she's taken photos of her holding her dad's hand and the hands of brothers and of a son.
Like I said, one wall is getting pretty full of framed black and white images of hands, and we're just getting started with kids and grandkids. I think we're going to need a few more walls or maybe a whole museum.
I have to admit the photos are unique and interesting. Hands can tell quite a story, and black and white images bring out those stories.
There's the weak hand of a younger dying sister held gently in the hand of her big sister, the worn working hand of her father holding the hand of his daughter. There's even her hand held lovingly in the hand of her husband. Each photograph is similar -- hand in hand -- but each is different and tells a story.
Will Mrs. Griz' growing hand collection be of value someday? Maybe so and maybe not. It is unique. There's no other quite like it. But even if it has no value to anyone else, it has great value to her and reflects the hands and lives she's touched and those which have touched her. I'm glad to have a hand in her collection.
Randy Moll is the managing editor of the Westside Eagle Observer. He may be contacted by email at [email protected]. Opinions expressed are those of the author.
Editorial on 04/23/2014