Tag: requiem

Requiem: Free gift from first checking account.

IMG_3167I went to school at a small women’s college in the small town of Nevada (pronounced Nuh-VAY-duh) Missouri. Back in my day, when you went to college, you had to open a checking account in your college town because it was before debit cards and if you weren’t going to carry cash around all the time, a checking account was what you needed.  I put off going to open my account on the special day they had for college students, and then had to force myself to go on another day. It was my first checking account, and seemed like a very big step and I wasn’t quite ready to make that step.

There were (I think) four banks to choose from in Nevada, and I chose Citizens State Bank because they offered a free gift if you opened an account with them.  It was a crushing blow to realize I’d sold my choice for a pocket mirror. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this token. However, it was for years my eyebrow plucking mirror as I could prop it on the windowsill and use the natural light to find the stray hairs.

I’ve just realized that this was not the last Citizens I banked with.  There was one in Massachusetts, too.

Is Citizens still there?  Apparently, it changed even before I left in 1995.  It merged in 1994 with the Mercantile Bank of Western Missouri which merged in 1998 with the Mercantile Bank of St. Louis National Association which became in 1999 part of Firstar Bank of Missouri, which merged in 2000 with US Bank.  And that bank still exists.

Someday someone is going to write about the many bank mergers of the 90s.  They were super annoying and I’m guessing they didn’t help ME any.  In Boston I had to keep switching banks because I would find a nice small bank and it would be gobbled up by some conglomerate that wanted to charge me tons of fees because I didn’t have a combined balance of $5000.00.

Requiem: Delia shoes.

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Oh Delia*s.  How I enjoyed your catalouges when I was in my 20s.  This is my last item of clothing from that company remaining in my closet; the company has folded.  These shoes were always fun to wear because let me tell you, many men really enjoy big, stacked shoes like this.  “Those shoes are amazing!” many men (always men!) in my age demographic would say.  Perhaps they are not as aware of the fluctuation in fashion and the shoes make them think back to their college years, when all the hot girls wore big shoes like this.

The delia*s logo:

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Requiem: Motion Industries Mug

IMG_3163My first job out of college was for Motion Industries.  I was the receptionist, and the company I worked for had recently been acquired by MI.  Redundednt people were being let go, everyone in the company was older than forty, and there wasn’t  really anything much to do.  I was bored and depressed and it was the kind of company that only had two holidays per year and accrued any vacation time for a full year before awarding it. I lasted eight months before fleeing.  Best part? My boss Roberta Cronin.  “You are terribly overqualified for this job, but it’s yours if you want it,” she told me about a week into my temp gig.  We made it official and I learned–not for the last time–about  the danger of settling for whatever job comes my way.

Requiem: Chain wallet.

I was 17 when I bought this wallet from a kiosk in the mall.  For years it reminded me of boyfriend #3 because he had one too, though it was bigger than mine. Then it just became my wallet. I bought it because it was bad-assed, and I liked hooking my keys to my wallet.  I was probably in my 20s the last time I had the wallet in the pocket and the chain attached to my belt loop.  Now I appreciate the chain because I can hold the wallet and wrap the chain around my wrist, keeping my wallet and keys handily together.

Once upon a time the front had an embossed leather Harley Davidson symbol, but it fell off sometime in my 30s.

Aside from the leather giving out on one of the snaps, I’ve spent the last year or so worried that the pockets are too loose to hold the cards in anymore.  So it was time to shop for a new one.

Thanks to a birthday amazon.com gift card (!!) I paid $0.38 for this wallet.

Things I like:  the amount of pockets it has to hold cards, plus the bigger bill holder part (made for larger Euros, as you can see by the “money” that came with it).
Things I don’t like?  The chain.  It’s too thin, too long and I don’t like the clip that holds my keys.  I’m going to see if a jewelry shop can swap out the old chain for the new one.
Thanks Jan! If I keep this wallet as long as I had the last one I will be 63 before I need a replacement.

Requiem: Food processor.

Oh humble and hard-working food processor, I’ve had you since 2001.  You were my first appliance purchased after I moved to Portland.  And now your top has disintegrated, leaving me unable to convince you to grate the Fels-Naptha to make the laundry detergent.
I’m hoping I can purchase a replacement, because your motor is still running like a champ, so this may not be a final requiem.

Requiem: dresses.

I think I found this dress at Savers, but I can’t be sure. It’s straight polyester of the late 60s/early 70s variety that is quite thick and sweaty and never breaks down.  The dress is SHORT.  I wore it ironically with bright green fishnet stockings and knee-high boots for “green and gold” spirit day my senior year of high school. I also had my longest false eyelashes on.  You can’t get a sense of scale when it’s laid out on the table like this, but looking at it today, I marveled that I had ever been that small.  It was one of the first dresses I wore when I was starting to get an idea of what powers my body had, if I dressed a certain way.

The label.
This dress was inherited from an Aunt (I can’t remember if it was Pat or Carol.  The length makes me think Aunt Carol had it first because she had the legs, but the lace around the collar makes me think it was Aunt Pat’s.)  It spent many years as a “dress up” dress in the dress up box.  I can remember wearing it when it came to my toes.  But I grew up and it was another high school discovery.  Also quite short.  I love the purple and orange pattern. It’s pretty worn out, which is too bad.

Another brown polyester dress probably bought at the same time that yellow one was.  I don’t ever remember wearing this, but I have a clear memory of H. wearing it, again ironically, for a spirit week dress up day.
Aside from the indestructible nature that comes with polyester, this has a great back zipper and, I discovered as I was searching around for a label, was homemade.
This came from the Salvation Army Thrift store and was my favorite dress for many years as a child.  I had a thing for old fashioned dresses so this was an incredible find.  I wore it for Halloween one year, and then any time I could after that.  Always for dress up.  I even fashioned hoop skirts from the circled bit of plastic that came with the lawn dart set.  This is homemade too, and still gorgeous.  If it was anywhere near fitting, I would have kept it, but someone else will get to be thrilled to find it.

Requiem: Rubber Scraper

Received for Christmas one year from my Aunt Carol (“It will not melt up to one thousand degrees! One Thousand Degrees!” she said more than once) there is also a larger green one.  It’s been a handy fellow, not melting at all and very good for scraping the last bits out of the peanut butter jar.

Sadly, the silicone has given up the ghost.

Requiem: shirt and skirt

You wouldn’t know it by looking at me, but I have a great affinity for clothing.  Sometimes  I look at J.K. Rowling–she of the vast wealth–and think, “Were I suddenly to find myself in a position to not think about money, I would most likely look as good as she does.”  Not that it’s that easy, of course, but the money does help.  I could have a good hairdresser that didn’t just disappear, I could schedule Pilates sessions with Deanne, I could have someone else do the cooking, and I could hire someone to find me incredibly beautiful clothing that looked great on me.  Don’t get me wrong, I think I do okay clothes-wise, but my wardrobe is quite minimal and largely consists of second-hand goods, because that’s what the budget provides.

Which brings me to this shirt.  I found it in a consignment store (the spendy one I don’t go to anymore, partially because we’ve moved and it’s not in my normal trajectory of things and partially because the prices are a bit high) and loved it, both for the designer name and for the colors and the fit.  Alas, the fit is no good anymore so it needs to move on to brighten someone else’s day.  The material feels great.  Quality material makes such a difference.
 

I’ve rarely been the kind of girl that guys notice and comment on.  This is okay by me, as I place the random guy commenting on the random girl in the category of I have named: sexist things we are hopefully moving beyond as we slowly but steadily progress to a gender-neutral society. (A girl can dream.)  I can report that guys adored this skirt.  I have never had so many random comments (“nice skirt!”) as when I was wearing this.  It was bizarre, as it seemed to be no different than any other skirt I owned, none of which invited comment.  I told a friend of this strange phenomena and once she found herself walking behind me she understood and explained.  Apparently the two separate layers shift with the normal walking motion and make a rather mesmerizing spectacle.  Ah.

Good to know.  And since it doesn’t fit me anymore, someone else can enjoy the ogling.

Requiem: Canon PowerShot Digital Elph

Oh beautiful camera, you are not fixable.  And this is a sad thing, because you have been my constant companion for the last six years.
 
I resisted getting a digital camera for a very long time.  I had always enjoyed film photography, though I enjoyed it less once everyone else was suddenly carrying around a camera.  Back in the day of print film, only the dorky film people with the big cameras could take the really good pictures.  I liked being one of those people.
 
But a strange thing happened when I got you, darling camera.  You were so small that I could carry you anywhere.  I never had to decide if I was going to bring the camera along because you were so small that you just came with me everywhere.  And, unlike all the small film cameras, you actually took good pictures.
 
And with the whole blog thing happening, and I had somewhere to put all those pictures I was taking aside from a drawer in my dresser.  So we spent our years together, until that dreadful day when I dropped you and you split open.

The loyal part of me wants to repair you, but the sensible part won out.  For less than the cost of repair, I now have a brand new camera.  But you were always my first, little friend.  And I won’t forget you.