Author: d. precious

  • For all ages

    My parents often had a couple of parties over the Christmas season. Having games around that people could play was part of how they entertained. The games were for the kids, of course, but the adults would dip in. Labyrintspel is a tricky game. It beleaguered my patience no end. I couldn’t even get the […]

  • Flossing

    After Dad died, I organized his stuff. When I cleaned out his bathroom I found the dental floss he was using when he died. It was pretty new. So, I kept it and used it up. I allowed myself to believe using the floss gave me a special connection to him that would help establish […]

  • Cannon

    These iron model cannons are a thing in my dad’s family. My uncle has one, too. This one used to sit on the tile beside the gas fireplace in the living room of the house I grew up in. From this item I am learning preciousness can be a sort of loathing, even dread. It […]

  • Three times a charm

    When my Mum’s mother was 99 years old she broke her hip. Although she was expected to make a good recovery, her doctor said her days of living alone in her two story Toronto duplex were over. Mum said to her, if you want to move out west, I’ll take care of you. I shake […]

  • The 50

    As I learn to de-precious, I am discovering that some very small items can take up an enormous amount of space. This boat key is one of them. I found it in Dad’s shop after he died. I was around seven when he bought a speedboat with a 50 horsepower Mercury outboard motor. I remember […]

  • Time-O-Lite

    Before computers, my father was a photographer and he developed his own photographs in a dark room. He used the Time-O-Lite to time the exposure of a negative onto photo sensitive paper. The image wouldn’t be visible until the paper was bathed in developer chemicals. It was magical. I was of course, not allowed to […]

  • My first steps

    Someone gave this to my Mum when I was born. The graphic design repelled me but the documentation of the first few months of my life was undeniably compelling. Mum dutifully filled in the first five or six pages. Noting my first smile, my first laugh and… … when I started to creep. After that, […]

  • Beach walks with Dad

    My father had a habit of collecting a bit of driftwood when he went for a walk on the beach. Later, he would write on it. Documenting the location, the date and sometimes, his companions. Over the years, they piled up and made a little beach on a shelf… and then after he died, a […]