Tuesday, January 20, 2015


I am a collector.

If you have ever been in my home, you know how much I appreciate old things.  I have many random collections that I have gathered over the years, but I love my collection of antiques most of all.

It is so intriguing to me that each piece once served a purpose for someone - they bought it new, they used it with their family, it had value to them.  So many things are discarded in this day and age because people think they don't have value, but I love to imagine what these things once meant to someone else when they were new.  I love reminders of the way things used to be.  I love the simplicity of many of these antique pieces that sit in my home.  I love stories. 

Many of the antiques I have in my home have stories that remind me of the joyous, happy moments that took place when I found them, because it's truly like finding a treasure.  A treasure with so much history and a host of stories I will never know.  Treasures that were touched by the hands of someone's grandparent or great grandparent.  People that existed and lived brilliant lives but that I will never know.

So I give these old things, these antiques, the great respect they deserve.  I like to imagine what they meant to the people who owned them.  I like to think about their lives and stories. 

My husband and I moved to Ohio from Indiana.  We were very close to the Michigan border in Indiana, so we spent countless weekends exploring the southern part of Michigan and all of its splendor.  Three Oaks, MI, is one of my favorite places in the whole world, and it is home to many wonderful shops that house antiques and artwork and thrift store finds.  Justin and I also spent quite a bit of time in downtown Niles, MI.  I've never seen so many antique shops.  It would take us an entire Saturday to comb each antique shop in Niles, including the flea markets that often sold antiques, as well.  While Niles may not seem like much, I have so many cherished memories there with my husband - walking through each antique shop, scouring the shelves and touching the old metal and wood of objects made before my time, stopping at the Paris shop for ice cream, sifting through bins of old vinyl records looking for treasures. 

There was also a thrift store in Niles where we found many of the cherished antiques that now sit in various places in my home - old Polaroid cameras, a Super 8 film projector, an antique chess set. 

I have a Royal typewriter that my husband bought for me at an antique shop in downtown Mishawaka where we used to live.  I loved that store and I love my typewriter.  The keys still work, the typewriter just waiting to tell a story. 

And then there's the antiques that mean the most - the ones given to me by members of my family.  As I said in my last post, my great grandfather gave me a 1948 Philco radio phonograph last week that him and my great grandmother bought new.  I also have a stack of old records and a box of cameras that my great grandfather actually used to take photos of him and my great grandmother when they took a 28-day trip around the world back in the 70s.  Each camera has an individual story to tell.

To me, things don't lose value as they age.  The only get better with time. 

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