Travel + Leisure back issues

Past: A while back, I received an offer in the mail from American Express. As a cardholder, they wanted to give me a free airline companion ticket. Free! All I had to do was agree to receive two free issues of Travel + Leisure magazine. Then, should I choose, I could continue my subscription at the low, low price of $19. If I didn’t want to subscribe, all I had to do was call and cancel. But the free airline ticket would still be mine. Sweet, right? Wrong! Really, it was just kind of a nuisance.

The free ticket turned out to be more of a hassle to redeem than it was worth. And—of course—I kept forgetting to call and cancel that subscription. When the annual renewal showed up on my credit card statement—and I realized it had been a whole year of me putting off this item on my t0-do list, I promptly called and cancelled. Easy as that.

I love travel—and I’m all about leisure—but this just wasn’t a magazine that I really needed. So, why not let my loss be someone else’s gain.

Present: Only one person responded to this Craigslist ad. And that’s all I needed. I like to think that each issue will get a careful perusing and result in a fabulous vacation in Tuscany or Tahiti or Tanzania.

Freshwater pearl necklace

Past: I received this pretty little necklace from my aunt and uncle on my mom’s side of the family when I was in—I’m guessing here—the eighth grade. Birthday? Christmas? The details are fuzzy. This branch of the family tree was sporadic in its gift giving. Not that gifts should ever be expected, but we just weren’t that close with one another, bloodlines or not. Perhaps that explains why I just never developed a sentimental attachment to this necklace. Most of the pieces of jewelry that I wear have a little story behind them—like Gramma Rita’s peridot ring or her lovebirds necklace—and a sense of history and attachment. This necklace did not.

After nearly 20 years of this necklace lying dormant in my dresser drawer—making the move from house to apartment to apartment to home—I decided it was time to give this necklace a new lease and to connect it with somebody who would feel a sense of attachment to it.

I posted it on Craigslist in the free section, knowing I would likely be inundated with responses. My one request was to know why these people would like to receive this necklace. I explained my desire to give this piece of jewelry a story and meaning and a sense of value, and figured the right person would present him or herself.

In fact—quite a few people would have given this necklace the sense of value that I was looking for. People really opened up to me. It was overwhelming and heartwarming and a more than a bit humbling. Throughout my life, I have been fortunate to receive so many pretty pieces of jewelry—both heirlooms and new pieces. I know that I’m lucky for all that I have, but this little quest of connecting this old necklace with a new owner, helped me see that luck and good fortune are not all about an accumulation of things.

Present: After one false start, some e-mail technical difficulties, and a rainstorm unlike any that I have ever seen, my old necklace made its way into its new owner’s hands. A woman my own age who, quite simply, wanted the necklace for herself.

Her story echoed with me for days. It was honest and personal and full of promise and hope and goodwill. She was a hard worker with a big heart—strong on the outside and sensitive on the inside. And had been a giver her whole life. However, her interest in the necklace was not at all coming from a place of “it’s time for me to receive a little something.” Rather, she was on the cusp of making some healthy, positive changes in her own life—all the while dedicating herself to giving her daughter a life of abundance. This pretty piece of jewelry was a way to commemorate the woman she is—both where she has come from and where she is headed.

Being well off has little to do with money and everything to do with perspective. That’s the lesson she taught me. Finally, that little necklace has a sense of meaning. I need not have it around my neck to remember its story.

Antique tea set

This entry is a bit of a reversal. More like a “currently mine.”

Present: Unbeknownst to me, over the last eight or so years, my father and his soon-to-be wife had been perusing antique shops and fairs in search of a perfectly mismatched bone china tea set for me. With the sixth and final teacup purchased just a month or so ago—the set was complete, and ready for them to present to me for my birthday. I was completely surprised and delighted to receive my very own china tea set—not to mention, truly touched by the years of thought that went into this special project. They had fun working on it, they said, and I feel regal sipping my tea from one of these dainty little cups.

Past: Of course, I would have love to have known the stories behind these items—who owned them prior to me, where did they live, in what manner were they used, etc.—but that is to remain a mystery. So, I did the next best thing: a little Google research. Here’s what I know about a few of the pieces . . .

Teapot: Manufactured by Homer Laughlin and distributed by Household Institute, this Priscilla pattern teapot dates back to 1944.

Creamer & sugar bowl: This floral Wedgwood pattern is stamped with the date August 1922 (or 1923) on the bottom. The handles have a unique look and feel with a gently twisted green stripe pattern.

Yellow teacup: Manufactured by a company called Aynsley that makes bone china in England, this cup seems to date back to 1934. I love the buttercup-yellow scalloped exterior of this cup!

Cream scalloped teacup: This was the last piece that my dad and Nancy picked up from a place called United House Wrecking in Stamford, CT. It’s a Wedgwood teacup, Edme is the pattern, and one site tells me that it is from the 1970s, while another says it dates back to 1908. Whoa, 100 years old! Though, quite possibly, this cup and saucer were not exactly meant to go together. The stamp on the bottom of the saucer doesn’t quite match the cup—though they’re both the Edme pattern. I suspect it’s the cup that’s really old. It looks like it has history behind it.

Green-tipped teacup: This is the one piece that’s from Japan, manufactured by Noritake. Apparently, this company had a million and one different styles to its insignia that it stamped on the bottom of its pieces. Presumably, this piece is from the 1930s or 1940s.

Pale yellow border teacup: And this is the one piece that’s from the U.S. It’s a pattern called Her Majesty, and it’s made by America Chinaware Corp. No info on the date—and it feels a bit sturdier than some of the other pieces. I feel like it came from a proper yet modest household—and that they used their china on a regular basis. And why not? Nice things don’t deserve to stay in hiding . . .

My old chest of drawers

Past: For the first six or so years of my life, I had this ugly grey bedroom furniture that had belonged to my father, I believe, when he was a boy. But I was just a little kid. What did I know—or care—about furniture. And then, one day, along came this new (massive!) bedroom furniture. A full-size bed with a headboard, dresser with mirror, chest of drawers, and a nightstand. It was very grown-up looking. And brown. I hated brown. Especially when I started to notice that my friends all had pretty white bedroom furniture with little pink flowers painted on it. Oh, how I wanted furniture with pink flowers, too. It’s only redeeming quality was that the middle section of the brass handles looked a lot like Sally from the Peanuts.

A decade or so later, I grew into this furniture and its classic good looks and quality craftsmanship were something at last I could appreciate. After graduating from college, this dresser, the nightstand, and my bed and headboard came with me to my first apartment in Boston. They later came with me to my Newton apartment and—with enough wall space at last—I was able to bring up the dresser and mirror, too. Of course, things were still pretty cramped. Even now as a happy homeowner—I just didn’t have enough room for all this furniture in the bedroom.

Present: I’ve seen enough of those home decor shows on HGTV to know that I only had one choice: I had to remove a piece of furniture from the bedroom. And with nowhere else to put that piece of furniture—but enough closet space to hang all those clothes—I posted it on Craigslist for $50—and a story. I needed to know it was going to the right home—and that it wouldn’t be cast out to the curb in a year or two along with the particleboard furniture.

The woman I sold it to had just moved into an apartment in the North End from out of state and was looking to get settled without spending too much money. What really interested me though was that she already had one dresser that looked to be almost an exact replica of the one I was selling. This made me feel like I was reuniting long-lost twins or something! Her aunt and a good friend came down in a minivan to pick up the dresser, told me how nice of a dresser it was—and how much it looked like the other woman’s—and that was that.

I’d be lying if I told you that I wasn’t at all sad seeing the minivan drive off with my childhood dresser . . . but I’m confident that it went to the right new home.

Pikachu keychain

Past: I’d say that I don’t really know were my love of Pikachu things came from . . . but c’mon now. Just look at that face. Is Pikachu not the most adorable little cartoon character you’ve ever seen?

Anyway—I remember this keychain came from a box of Rice Krispies that Andrew bought back in 2000ish. Knowing I had a thing for Pikachu, he gave me the prize from his cereal box. Awww . . . I held onto this thing for all these years—never using it as a keychain because the keys would scratch the paint off of his adorable little face and that would make me sad. So, instead, he lived a repressed life in my desk drawer. Until I decided that it was time I part with my Pikachu toy. But just this one. Not my tamagatchi, stapler, squeeze toy, or—heaven forbid—Scott’s Pikachu toothbrush. Not yet . . .

Present: One of my coworkers has pretty much every free space on her office walls decorated with photographs, drawings, and various other mementos. One of the many drawings she has hanging up was done by her six-year-old son. It’s of Pikachu. It’s ridiculous and adorable all at once. And completely identifiable by its rosy red cheeks.

Her son is into all things Pikachu. So much so that he told his mama that he’s supporting Obama because his name sounds like a Pokemon character (like Pikachu!). I can totally get behind that logic.

So, when I came across this adorable but unused keychain in my desk drawer, I thought I’d give it to my coworker for her son. She laughed when I came into her office with it dangling from my finger—but said that she knew somebody who’d absolutely love it.

Piggy bank

Past: I picked up this adorable little piggy bank on my family vacation to Orlando in July 1984. Still, I can remember pulling the dollar bills out of my red velcro wallet in the gift shop at the China pavilion at Epcot to pay for it with my own money.

For years, this piggy bank sat on my dresser, and then on my bookshelves in college. And then, it kind of went into hiding. The rubber stopper on the bottom had long since disentegrated and the joy of dropping a coin into the money slot was a thing of the past.

But I wasn’t ready to part with this rosy-cheeked piglet with the endearing smile. So I carried her from apartment to apartment and house to house—along with eight million other knicknacks—knowing someday I’d find her a new home.

Present: I posted this bank for free on Craigslist, along with a photo. Soon after, I received an e-mail from a woman (whose name also happens to be Holly) who thought that the bank was adorable and that the smile on the piggy reminded her of her husband. How charming! Right away, I knew this little piggy bank would be in good hands for many more years to come.

Costume jewelry

Past: This faux pearl and diamond costume jewelry is dainty and lady-like and—if I remember correctly—came from the display case of the “fancy” jewelry at Claire’s in Selinsgrove, PA. I only wore it a handful of times—mostly to sorority formals during college. Low-budget bling. But I loved it!

For 10-plus years it sat in the corner pocket of my jewelry box—a little nest of baubles and fake gold. I knew I was never going to wear it again—and I was certain there was a girly-girl out there somewhere who would enjoy wearing it to her high school prom—so up it went onto Craigslist.

Present: I was hit hard with requests for this jewelry—which surprised me. Some of the stories people sent me were quite sweet. A jobless mom who had recently moved here from the Philippines who didn’t really have much money to spend on nice jewelry to wear with her dress to the three weddings she had coming up. A daughter who wanted to give her mom something pretty for Mother’s Day. A self-proclaimed poor guy who just wanted to give his wife something pretty. Others, too. Including a couple people who wrote just to say they thought it was nice of me to be giving away something pretty, especially with prom season ahead of us. I was touched.

Because it was just costume jewelry—pretty but chintzy costume jewelry—I decided the best home for my jewelry would be to a girl who would wear it to her prom—and maybe some other dress-up occasions. Like I did.

I passed the jewelry along to a woman from Arlington whose niece was attending her high school prom this spring. The girl’s mother had found her a gently worn prom dress and now her aunt was going to complete the ensemble with some pretty second-hand jewelry so that the girl would feel like the belle of the ball. And it was that phrase—the belle of the ball—and the memories of having the excited butterfly feeling in my heart when getting all dressed up for my own prom that convinced me this was the right person to pass my costume jewelry along to.