A rock in my pocket 

There was a time when I carried a small flat rock in my pocket.   We all have stuff that we carry with us everyday.  At that time, I always carried a lighter, knife, pencil, and this pinkish brown rock. My current everyday carry is not much different.  Swap the tiny rock for a package of baby butt wipes and I am good to go.  I carried this rock because it was supposed to be a reminder of someone important.  I don’t remember the details about who, why, or how this rock ended up in my pocket. Sorry, to whoever you are, the rock itself proved more memorable than you.

I still have the rock.  It’s in a little wooden box inside a bigger box in the attic. It is part of a collection that includes my employee ID from my first job, a car cigarette lighter from a wreck I walked away from, a special $2 bill, and a hospital bracelet that reminds me of a different event from which  I was able to walk away.

How do we determine what random things we should classify as sentimental? How does any detritus ever make the cut to become treasure? Why do I continue to keep a rock when I can’t remember for what it was a reminder?  I can remember specific conversations with friends when I explained why I carried a rock in my pocket.  I can remember a college professor who also carried a rock in his pocket.  Maybe there is a small club for people like us.  That would be a strange meeting.  Maybe my memories about carrying the rock make it more valuable than the reason why I had the rock in the first place.

There are many symbols we use to remind us of special people and events. Accoring to Wikipedia, wedding rings have been used in some fashion since ancient Egypt and now they are the foundation for a huge jewelry business.  I have a dish on my dresser that houses an ever growing collection of jewelry that was made by my kids.  Every piece in the collection means something to me and I try to cycle through wearing all of these treasures.

Here’s a song about a locket that served it’s wearer by keeping someone close.  Spoiler alert: there is a surprise ending.

I wrote this song a really long time ago and had never been able to find a use for it. I was really glad to be able to include it on the Stomp Your Feet project.  We might include a new version of this song on another random collection of Brother Jack songs that will be coming out later this spring.

What are the odds and ends that you have hidden away in your trinket collection?  Where do you keep your treasure?  What is the weirdest thing that you consider sentimental?  Like Brother Jack, do you keep crap and you can’t remember why? Let me know all the juicy details about your most intimate, sentimental treasures.

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