When I graduated from college, my grandfather insisted I have a briefcase. His gift was incredibly sweet and thoughtful but I never had much use for a briefcase, especially such a traditional style. I kept the briefcase for a few years, but when I was getting ready to move from California to Boston, the briefcase joined the garage-sized pile of other objects I had to trash, sell, or give away. The briefcase was donated, among many other things, to the Salvation Army, where I hoped it would make its way to someone who would actually have use for it. That was almost two years ago. My grandfather died recently and all I can think about is that briefcase.
I’m interested in the irrational affection we feel towards inanimate objects as well as the narrative and meaning that get attached to this otherwise mundane stuff over time, thanks to who we got the object from, or who we were with when we purchased or found it, what our life was like at the time, what it’s like now, and where we’ve been in between, all of which is carried on in the object, regardless of whether it still exists or not. Creating a virtual memorial for my lost briefcase is the least I can do to honor my grandfather’s gift, while, to some extent, confessing my guilt over getting rid of it.
