Saturday, February 16, 2013

Forget Me Not

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The little book in the antique shop grabbed me. 

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Picking it up and turning carefully through it’s pages, I fell in love…

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…not just with the book itself, but the meaning and history behind it.

The carrying around of a book to capture—in an instant—the hand of a friend.  The thoughts of a loved one.  A moment in time, never to be repeated…

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The plea of a girl to those she would, through the years, hand the little book to:

“To my Friends

I ask not gold, clear red like flame

Or Jewels, or lace or velvet fine

I only ask a thought, a name

A verse or loving line.

So shall I gain, yet you confess,

Your riches have grown more the less.

                                                    Elva”

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From 1889 to 1897, the writing—the hand—of friends and family was captured by Elva on pages now colored by time…

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Bits of beautiful, old German scrap graces some of the pages…

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…did you notice the forget-me-nots in these sweet images?  So did I.

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Just a few of it’s pages shared with you today…a by-gone tradition to be savored in a day when it seems we barely share our handwriting with others any more…

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…a few strokes of the keys on computer or cell phone…messages of love left, of course-- but a lack of that personal touch, I think…our hand………

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A reminder to leave more behind me than cyber messages on digital pages.  Something tangible.  Something me.  Something touched  by my hand

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