Grandma’s Jeans

Wrangler, Greensboro, North Carolina, United States, circa 2005, denim, length: 30”

These jeans are my genes. Like my lithe fingers and the shape of my lips, I inherited them from my maternal grandmother.

I stumbled upon my grandma’s Wranglers years ago while rummaging through a closet of old stuff. What was I looking for? An insecure teenager struggling to find what fits her in life, I pulled out these jeans and tried them on. Instantly, I loved them: broken-in yet still structured, not tight but not too baggy, a perfect medium wash, simple ornamentation. Mostly though, I loved them because when I put them on, I felt a visceral connection to my grandmother. I felt her humility in the understated details, her strength in the double stitching, her tenacity in the durability of the denim fabric, her calming presence in the blue hue.

Since the day I found them, my grandma’s jeans have become my most beloved pair of trousers. Thousands of miles have separated me from my grandmother since I was young, but when I wear her jeans, it feels like she is with me. Pulling on her jeans, I am reminded of my genes: all of those qualities that I admire about my grandmother exist somewhere within me too. – Haley G.

To learn more about Haley’s jeans and label, listen to The Museum of Where We Are Podcast, Season 4, Episode 2!

Jhumka Earrings

Mumbai, India, circa 2015, gold, rose gold, diamonds, pearls, height: 2.7”

Have you ever felt the weight of growing up? I feel it on my ears two hours into wearing this beautiful earring, a Jhumka hanging on a big golden hoop with tiny pearls hanging at the bottom. Like growing up, the burden of the earrings goes unnoticed as I twirl around and grin, enjoying the jingling of the pearls. I chuckle at the sight of tiny rainbows formed when the sun hits the lustrous diamonds, making the earring seem ethereal. I am sure to take pictures that flaunt this earring and record a video where I bob my head to capture the essence of the Jhumka dancing in all its glory. But as time goes by, I feel my ears dropping and quivering, too feeble to continue to support the weight of their embellishments. Suddenly, even the slightest movement of the Jhumka painfully draws my attention to how the earrings restrict any vigorous movement of my neck. I do not realize the exact moment that the earrings stopped bringing me joy and caused me pain. Nor can I pinpoint the moment I stopped being a child. I know for sure, though, I am not a child anymore. – Vidhi S.

Cotton Paper Table Lamp

Papeles Artesanales Eclipse, Antigua Guatemala, Guatemala, circa 2021, cotton paper, bougainvillea flowers, wood, height: 15”

I am walking down the uneven sidewalks of Antigua Guatemala, the afternoon sunshine warm against my cheeks, the scent of fresh flowers hitting my nose as I pass a family that is creating the first flower carpet of the year in anticipation of the Easter celebrations.

When I open my eyes, I am not in Guatemala. I am sitting at my desk in my university apartment, well into the late hours of the night, staring at a blank AutoCAD document void of the design that is due in a few hours.

What hits my face is not the sun, but the mocking blue light emitted by my computer screen and the warm glow of the lamp that sits next to it, one that my mom gifted me before I left for university.

A breeze from the open window next to my desk wafts the fragrance off the dried bougainvillea flowers that are pressed into the surface of the lampshade in my direction.

I bask in the sensations provided by the lamp, a source of comfort in the absence of my hometown and my mother, who proudly awaits the PDF attachment that she will soon receive, complete with my latest design. – Sofia L.

To learn more about Sofia’s lamp and label, listen to The Museum of Where We Are Podcast, Season 4, Episode 7!

Lucite Pen Cigarette Holder

Daytona Beach, Florida, United States, circa 1950, grit, lucite, paint, plaster, and seashells, height: 2.25”

The one thing that will always complicate my relationship with smoking is my great-grandmother’s quirky pen holder from the 1950s. She passed away from lung cancer after a lifetime of smoking. It was her greatest regret in life. I came into the world after she left, so this little plastic pen holder lives on as a conduit through which I connect with her. An intensely creative woman, she wrote beautiful letters ambidextrously and painted gorgeous landscapes; I myself love reading and drawing. As cancer slowly chipped away at her, she wrote several letters from her desk, undoubtedly brushing her fingers against this little Lucite gem when she reached for her pen. The desperate process of deeply relating to such a simple object has made it feel like an extension of my family, of myself. This plastic seascape of a pen holder is useless in a utilitarian sense: too small to hold any of my pens and just big enough to hold one guilty cigarette upright like a middle finger to her dying wishes. If not for me, it is for her that I quit smoking so often. Someday I will get it—maybe when I find a pen that fits. – Rory P.

Owala FreeSip Water Bottle

Owala, Lehi, Utah, United States, circa 2021, powder coated metal, plastic, rubber, height: 10.68”

Before the Owala FreeSip Water Bottle entered my life, was I truly aware of what it meant to be hydrated? This journey began with a simple addition to my daily routine, just carrying the bottle around, yet it led to an awakening. Before, water was an afterthought, but now it is a constant companion, urging me to sip, refill, repeat, and, most importantly, embrace a more active lifestyle. The transformation was subtle at first; I carried the bottle from home to school, then to the gym, and eventually everywhere in between. Gradually, I noticed the changes: increased energy, clearer skin, and a more consistent sense of well-being. This bottle was not just a receptacle for water; it was a reminder and advocate of the simple yet profound impact of hydration on my health. It has made me wonder: how often do we overlook simple everyday objects when trying to improve ourselves, unbeknownst of their possible profound effects? – Alexander L.

White Gold Diamond Pendant

circa 1950, white gold, diamond, metal, length: 10” (necklace)

When does an object’s life begin? I believe this pendant’s life began in 1951 when my grandfather walked into a Polish restaurant in Baltimore and saw my grandmother sitting with her date across the room. She instantly caught his attention, and even though she was with another man, he asked her to dance. They danced a traditional polka; he was so enchanted by her that, when she sat down, he realized he had forgotten to ask for her number. He gathered the courage to ask for another dance. She immediately obliged, and after the dance, since he did not have a pen or paper on him, he drove straight home to write down her information. This was the beginning of a six-decade love story that includes four children, eleven grandchildren, and three great-grandchildren. This necklace was the first piece of jewelry my grandfather gave to my grandmother. Since her passing in 2017, the necklace has found a new home with me. It is now my job to honor its memory and integrity by wearing it as a reminder of my grandmother and allowing its story to persist for generations to come. – Elizabeth B.

Jewelry Box

Mundi, United States, circa 2003, leather, velvet, and brass, height: 5”

This jewelry box that I have owned since I was a baby has been like the older sister that I never had.

It guided me as I developed my sense of style. The box’s cream velvet compartments invited me from an early age to fill them up with whatever I could find. As I matured, the box’s contents prompted me to closely reflect on the jewelry I wore, and I would remove older pieces to start anew. The box continues to encourage me to try out new things. Although my Barbie necklaces are long gone, my jewelry box provided me with the space I needed back then to explore my place in the world of jewelry.

Like an older sister, my jewelry box has been by my side when I needed it the most. The box’s small mirror helped me decide what to wear as I nervously got ready for my first middle school dance. Giving its blessing, the box bestowed upon me the pearl earrings that I wore for my high school graduation.

When my mother bought me this jewelry box, she probably viewed it as just a storage device. Without realizing it, she purchased a loyal lifelong companion. – Marcella M.

Mr. Krabs Beanie Baby

Beanie Baby, Oakbrook, Illinois, United States, circa 2012, polyester fiber, plastic, string, wire, height: 5.5”

What, besides money of course, was Mr. Krabs looking for when he presented himself to me after being lost for years? My grandmother, Rena, bought Mr. Krabs, a SpongeBob character obsessed with money, for me and my brother in 2012. Consisting of vibrant red polyester, he was soft to the touch while still being durable. However, after a year of use, he vanished, never to be seen again. Or so we thought. While he departed from our memories, he remained in our grandmother’s house. When she passed two years ago, Mr. Krabs reemerged as we looked through her possessions for keepsakes and objects to display for her memorial. To my surprise, he was no richer than before, and no dirtier. At that moment, this object that brought joy to our family reminded me that even though Rena, always the life of the party and youthful at heart, was gone, her memories and impact on our family and our feelings still remained. – Andrew L.

Baby Blanket (Gigi)

Possibly Carter’s Baby Blanket, Tallahassee, Florida, circa 2001, possibly acrylic/fleece, length: 40”

How does one know they are grown up? Would you say a grown up still has their baby blanket? Laying at 40 inches long and 25 inches wide, my baby blanket rests at the foot of my bed in my apartment. Its washed out print of animals and palm trees lightly saturates its worn yet fuzzy surface. My blanket, Gigi, is more than just a piece of cloth. She is something greater: a best friend. Gigi is just what a friend should be: reliable and accepting. With the presence of Gigi, one may think I am not the epitome of a grown up, and maybe they are right. However, I feel like some version of one. Why does one have to sacrifice childhood wonder for the acknowledgment of growing up? As a child my imagination ran free. One day I was a dinosaur from a different planet who went to the beach on the weekends, the next a fairy who was also a famous chef. Why should I throw that magic away? I do not think that child will ever leave me, and the presence of Gigi reminds me of that little girl that saw her world in daydreams. – Charli Y.

Whopper Plopper Topwater Fishing Lure

River2Sea, Vacaville, California, United States, circa 2017, plastic, stainless steel, length: 3.5’’

I have probably tied this Whopper Plopper onto the end of my line at least 100 times. The thought of tying it on always gives me hope that I might catch my biggest bass of the year. Seeing a large fish dive out of the river and bite my lure as it swims along the surface is something I dream of all winter, and only occasionally get to enjoy during the summer. This lure has scratches, bends, and rust, and the paint is clearly chipping from the cheap plastic. The fish do not care about these flaws, so neither do I. Because I have had this specific Whopper Plopper for so long, I feel like it has a lucky bass catching charm that a brand-new shiny Whopper Plopper cannot have. I probably think this because I am a fisherman, and that means I am superstitious. I will say that I certainly have not caught a fish every time I have thrown this lure for a cast. However, every time I have used this lure, I was at least in nature, spending time with my father, or having a pleasant day forgetting my woes with my friends. – Devin S.

Leaf-Shaped Incense Burner

circa 2022, metal, length: 10”

I tend to struggle with my mental health in the winter. Those long, dark, cold days make it difficult to me to leave my apartment. However, I understand the importance of allowing myself to see the sky and feel fresh air. So, for those more difficult days, I fashioned myself a reminder. This incense burner is the centerpiece of what I affectionately call my “sun shrine,” a holy monument dedicated to warmth, vitamin D, and staving of seasonal depression. It is surrounded by other sun-themed tchotchkes, all on top of a borrowed cigar box where the actual incense is stored. The metal that makes up the burner’s form is cold and unyielding, yet its leaf design reminds me that I too need sunlight to thrive. And should I find myself without it on any cold and dreary night, I can light a stick and watch as the red-hot embers slowly seep down its length, the smoke wafting up in graceful ribbons. In these moments I am almost as cozy in my apartment as I would be by a crackling fireplace back home. – Sydney H.

Leather Briefcase

Bucharest, Romania, early twentieth century, leather, cloth, bronze, width: 24”

Rain, vodka, coffee, dirt, beer, piss—all elements stained forever into the leather skin of this briefcase. A protective case guards its contents from even the most unforgiving conditions. Rain, vodka, coffee, dirt, beer, piss—all elements of which a punk rock basement venue might reek. The lead singer takes a shot of vodka. The exhausted driver sips a coffee. The drummer finds a bush for a piss. The bassist rests on the dirty basement floor. They all run out into the rain to catch a cab home from a late show. The case is there through it all, the presence of the merchandise within makes or breaks the night. The financial value of the case’s contents will keep the band afloat until the next rainy night trekking through Philadelphia’s urban jungle. Just as the band would never leave a member of their own behind, they will never leave behind this case. No one knows what element left its mark last, and no one knows which element will make its mark next. But much like the memories the band has made together, the marks will never fade. – Nicolas T.

Hillel Winterfest Metal Mug

2021, metal, height: 5.5”

For all intents and purposes, a mug is meant to be drunk from. This mug is not for a human’s lips. You can see it in the dust gathered at its bottom, yet, on closer inspection, rust has stained its handle.

When held in one’s hand, the cold disuse seeps into your fingers like rain that should be snow, a stark contrast to its cousins in my cupboard who radiate warmth.

Yet, peer into its soul: find at the bottom a seabed of purple, blue, and pink wax. They melt together like a galaxy, with some of the original white of the mug’s bottom peeking through like stars. Light reflects off the wax projecting lighter variants of the colors onto the inner walls of the mug.

It never touched lips, but it did touch my heart. It was a convoy for my creativity, parked in my shower for almost two years, a home for crayons that let me litter my sterile shower walls.

For all intents and purposes, this mug has created its own purpose. – E. B.

Chick-fil-A Plush Cow

Chick-fil-A, Atlanta, Georgia, United States, circa 2020, polyester, felt, height: 8”

Have you ever felt disconnected from your family members after the death of a loved one? After my grandma’s passing, it seemed like there was a wall between my grandpa and me. It was almost like my grandma was the glue holding our family together. Then my grandpa started working at Chick-fil-A and I started collecting Chick-fil-A memorabilia. My collection started with this stuffed cow from him. This piece is my favorite out of my whole collection. Intricate two-dimension details make it look three-dimensional. It is not perfect: a loose pink string hangs from its nostrils. Collecting Chick-fil-A memorabilia has created an olive branch between us, though. My grandpa has helped me grow my collection to include all sorts of things, from a window sign to a puzzle and many stuffed cows. I like to think that he feels as much joy in obtaining the different objects as I do in collecting them. – Alexis M.

Dragon Necklace

Doylestown, Pennsylvania, United States, circa 2016, metal, length: 10.2”

The necklace is a reminder of the time my family would spend together. Every year we would attend an arts festival, and it was at one such festival that I found it. Sitting in the hot sun, amongst the bustling crowds and chittering conversation, it glittered from inside its booth. The vendor carried many beautiful pieces of metalwork, ranging from statues to charms and trinkets. Most people passed by, giving the stall but a passing glance. It just so happened that this little trinket, small as a quarter, caught my attention so dearly. It has become a cherished memento that has travelled with me throughout the years. Time may pass, but I inevitably come back to it. To me it is a memory, a friend, and a reminder of a time that I hold dear. – Sydney K.

Amazon Kindle Keyboard

Amazon, Seattle, Washington, United States, July 2010, plastic, metal, glass, height: 7.5”

A routine eBay delivery gifts a gray rectangle that mirrors my most prized childhood possession. The object it reflects is my Amazon Kindle, a means of literary exploration for younger me, and my ticket to living endless stories and adventures. With each page turned, the device would disappear further, allowing this eager child to perceive nothing but the gripping details of a narrative. Even with its limited storage, it seemed not all the books in existence could fill the walls of the valley I found myself falling deeper into with every word. I clung desperately to my small rectangular parachute, falling further and faster, refusing to ever pull the string. I got lost in the unlit screen until eventually, the rip cord was violently yanked for me. My Kindle was shattered on a family trip, and this version I hold today is a mere sibling of what once captured my every waking moment. I purchased it to reinspire my literary excitement, but ironically, with the physical medium returned, the software is now obsolete. It sits as a reminder of the endless worlds available on the page, and as an unredeemed ticket for adventure that I hope soon to cash in. – Jameson N.

Wooden Owl Figurine

wood, acrylic paint, height: 5.25”

Is it possible to make an object a memorial years after a loved one has passed? My mom surprised me one evening by gifting me a small wooden owl figurine with simplistic streaks of paint where it would warrant detail. Before I even had the chance to lay eyes on it, she told me it reminded her of me.

Her assumingly odd line of thought was all thanks to my Pop-Pop who lost his life to addiction when I was three years old. Before his passing, he gave me the nickname, “Hoot Owl”; my cooing resembled an owl’s hoot. This nickname soon turned into my legacy, held in loving memory of my grandfather. On my birthdays thereafter, I would receive gifts containing an owl in some way from my family.

This gift was different, however, as it came into my life without warning. The surprise of the figurine is what made it so meaningful to me, as it was carefully thought of without the external pressures that a birthday would cause. In this way, it made me feel closer to my Pop-Pop, like he wanted my mom to choose that gift for his Hoot Owl. – Liv C.

Slip On Shoes

Adidas, 2020, canvas, rubber, length: 11”

You know you love something or someone when you begin to look for their positive qualities in alternatives. My pair of shoes is not the prettiest, or the most expensive, but there is a reason they have survived the trash bin for years. The extremely weathered state displays the extent of wear that these shoes have endured in their days. Complete with tears in the siding and toe caps caked in mud, these shoes may have experienced more than any single pair of shoes should. Most people would have thrown them out years ago when the original white canvas started to initially grey or when the first indication of a tear began to reveal itself. I continue to pay these sneakers the respect and dedication that they have given me. Even if I wanted to toss them, I could not because I continue to look for them in other shoes. Wearing a shoe that has not formed to perfectly accommodate every intricacy of my foot feels almost as uncomfortable as replacing my mother with somebody else. It is just not possible to abandon something that you love so much because it loves you right back. – Will S.

Canga de Praia

circa 2010s, likely viscose, length: 63”

The canga is a unique cultural garment of Brasil, serving both as a beach cover-up and towel for the women who don its cooling embrace. Mine holds memories of sand under the blazing southern sun, lightly splashed by crashing waves on the beaches of Rio de Janeiro. Within the weave of its fraying pattern, I see the rolling mountains and vibrantly colored homes built upon them. I still smell coconuts and salt water, and hear the carioca accent my whole family speaks with. Looking at it reminds me of home and an incurable saudade which I carry with me every time I wear it.

Yet, I am an imposter.

It never fits or looks quite right, tightly contouring my body as if it were a sharp blade burning to reveal what lies beneath my skin. I can feel the Redeemer’s disapproving gaze as he looks down upon me in my mockery of his father’s creation. He questions my place in the pattern or cloth of my culture. The imperfect thread of color that escaped the pattern, barely unnoticed, dares to show the world I am an imposter of my own reflection, existing in between what is and what is not. – Cairo F.

Vietnamese Cup Coaster

Dinh Thi Nguyen, Binh Dinh, Vietnam, 1980s, mother-of-pearl, bamboo, rattan, width: 4”

This coaster, passed down from my grandmother's hands to mine, is more than a practical item; it embodies a legacy of love, craftsmanship, and cultural heritage that spans generations. As it rests on my table, each delicate shell and intricate pattern tells a story of my hometown’s bustling markets and warm embrace in Binh Dinh. The formal busyness in their design evokes the vibrant energy of the markets, with each shell and pattern contributing to the lively tapestry of my memories.

Growing up with a minimalist mindset and experiencing the transient nature of college life, I never imagined forming attachments to material objects. Yet, this coaster defies my expectations, drawing me in with its rich history and vibrant symbolism. Just as the intricate inlay work mirrors the kaleidoscope of life in Vietnam, this coaster reflects my journey of growth and resilience, serving as a beacon of hope.

With each cup placed upon its surface, I am reminded of the enduring legacy of tradition and the importance of cherishing connections across generations. In a world marked by constant change and uncertainty, this coaster is a tangible link to my past, grounding me in the values and memories that shape my identity. – Rosie N.

Bach’s Rescue Pastilles Tin

Bach Flower Remedies Ltd., Switzerland (distributed by Nelson Bach USA Ltd), circa 2020, tin, enamel, diameter: 3”

This tin refuses an immediate reveal of what it holds. Its lid slides along the base’s ridges, but it does not wind open along a threaded lip. I often hand the tin to my friends and watch them test its edges to figure it out. You must push down the center of the tin’s lid to open it. The lid pops loudly, pushing out the edges clasping its base. While this spectacle entices wonder, there is nothing grand inside. My tin has been empty of pastilles for a long while. My main use of it these days is as a portable ash tray. Its value for me lies in how it pushes open the possibilities of the world. Before encountering this tin, I had no familiarity with such an opening mechanism, and it continues to be the only example of it that I have encountered. This tin’s mechanism fascinates me as it taught me a new way for a lid to be a lid. Even closing it, which releases a loud ‘tuk’ sound, provides a moment of novelty and levity. – Hanna P.

Jewelry and Music Box

Taiwan, circa 1990, wood, metal, felt, height: 7”

Can the imperfections of an item outshine its beauty?

Over the summer, I found this jewelry box at a flea market. Its charming metal handles and dark wood finish attracted me, but upon a closer look, I noticed a metal crank on the back. When turned, it started singing me a sweet song. I could not pass up such a unique box, so I purchased it for five dollars.

When I got home, I cleaned my new box. Only then did I discover the barely visible black marker streaks along the top. I was upset. Who could deface such a pretty wood finish? I wished that I saw the imperfections at the flea market. I thought that if I had done so, I might not have bought the box.

Maybe the marker on the top was the reason it was discarded. Maybe its previous owner thought that no one would want a jewelry box that was not in pristine condition.

I now love and appreciate my jewelry box how it is. The box spoke to me when I found it, and I am glad I did not ignore its call because of some small imperfections. – Annaliese H.

Meditation Mug

Monks of the Taize Community, Taize, France, circa 2018, glazed clay, height: 4.5”

I was given this mug in the summer of 2018 on my first solo trip outside America, in a small village in the mountains of southern France called Taize. The man who gave it to me took me in and welcomed me when I was alone, when I was petrified about being out on my own for the first time. Through meditation, he helped me chisel away that fear and discover peace. This mug reminds me of that kindness he showed me. It also reminds me of myself. It reminds me of the conflicting innocence and maturity that came with exploring the world alone when I was only sixteen. My mug reminds me of the tranquility that I experienced meditating in the French countryside. But it also reminds me that, in a way, I am mourning that tranquility. That sense of complete serenity may not be a feeling that an adult can entirely re-capture; worldly responsibilities always seem to get in the way. This humble ceramic is a portal back to Taize, allowing me to step through and once again feel the gentle breeze and warm sunshine there, in the hills of France, in days long past. – Danny V.

GameCube Controller

Nintendo, Kyoto, Japan, 2001, plastic, width: 6.69”

Holding it now, I am reminded of the challenges faced and the victories savored. My Nintendo GameCube Controller has been an enduring partner, bridging the worlds of childhood wonder and adult complexity. As a child, it was my conduit to fantastical realms conjured up by imagination and pixels. Super Mario Sunshine and Super Smash Bros. Melee were more than games; they were vibrant, colorful worlds with immersive challenges and characters that felt like old friends. The tactile feedback from the buttons and the precision of the joystick translated thought into action seamlessly. As I grew older, this controller transformed alongside me. The buttons and joystick became worn, the result of countless battles fought and hours invested crafting strategies. Each imperfection evidences a chapter in my tale of perseverance and play. Its design is more than functional; it is an extension of my hands. This controller connected me not just to games, but to friends who shared this passion, making every encounter a mix of nostalgia and new discovery. It represents more than just technological innovation; it is a symbol of my growth, a bridge between the person I was and who I have become. – Jose M.

St. Christopher Necklace

Italy, circa 1900, white gold, length: 13”

“It will protect you like it did with me,” my father said as he passed this necklace to me a few days before I left for college. It consists of a chain made up of many small rings joined together in a double helix shape and, at the bottom, the star of the show, a pendant showing St. Christopher, the patron saint of travel. Being in an unfamiliar city for the first time was nerve wracking but knowing that I had my necklace with me, an object that once belonged to my father, and before him, my grandfather, made the experience a little bit easier. Hearing of him mostly through stories from my father, I knew my grandfather was a proud New York City police officer for years. Knowing this necklace protected him all that time gave me confidence it could do the same for me. Although it may look like a simple silver necklace, this object carries fond memories of my late grandfather and constantly reminds me that, although I may not be with my family, I am eternally connected to them. – Gavin C.

Tommy Hilfiger Sports Bag

Tommy Hilfiger, circa 2010, polyester, rubber, width: 4.75”

This has no name, no purpose, and an oscillating identity. It is in a perpetual state of choosing its major. I found it when I was twelve, rummaging through my mother’s bathroom drawers for something empty and begging to be stolen—toothpaste, floss, or an object of equal importance. For five years, it served as my bathroom bag full of unused contact lenses and buttons, and it served another three as a pencil bag caked in lead and dust from the inside out. Now, it sits on my apartment desk bulging with many sets of Dungeons & Dragons dice. It doubles as a prop for my USB camera that replaces the built-in webcam my laptop lacks. This bag with no name lacks commitment or clarity, but lounges happily in my room knowing that if it were truly worthless, it would have exited the lives of its keepers long, long ago. Inevitably, the bag will switch occupations once more: there are too many dice inside of it, and those dice need a new home. The dice bag which used to be a pencil bag which used to be a bathroom bag will be a brand-new bag. – Cameron C.

Copper Silver Coin Set

United States Mint, United States, 1972 and 2017, nickel, copper, diameter: 1.5”

The deeper meaning behind these coins lies in their representation of my time as a twenty-two-year-old magician. The copper silver coin transposition—visual and impossible—is a true classic of coin magic. If I could master it, I could finally become a coin magician.

Upon receiving the coins, I noticed the stark contrast between the metals. These were not quarters. These were large, solid coins. I knew these coins would be hard to conceal, as I had only worked with half dollars prior. Yet, I was excited by the challenge.

Practice, perform, practice, perform—frustration turned into elation. An audience of three people became an audience of thirty and my confidence suddenly skyrocketed. I could finally perform coin magic to a large audience.

A couple months ago, I looked at the coins. I saw a younger magician proficient in cards yet aspiring for more. Today, I see the endless possibilities of creativity.

Someday, I will remember all the amazing performances I had with the coins and the joy of becoming a better magician. But today, I must practice. – Daniel B.

Gold Tiffany & Co “Dog Tag” Necklace

Tiffany & Company, United States, 2020, gold, height: 1” (pendant)

Jewelry is a core way many choose to express themselves. Yet, there are times when it can make you feel like you are trying to be someone you are not. Seeing myself in the mirror, a dainty gold necklace adorning my neck, felt wrong. But was it the necklace, or was it me?

A gift from my mother, this necklace is sentimental. She selected it for me as a sixteenth birthday present. At the time, I loved it. It symbolized the mature, put-together person I wanted to be. How could I just grow out of it? I asked myself this while trying to find ways to make it work, to make it match the person I felt I was inside. I battled to pair it with silver chains, stacked it with my favorite necklaces, and even altered its linkage, yet these attempts were in vain. The only proof: the battle scars worn into the soft gold. Now, it just sits on my vanity, a gentle presence. I hope that one day the person I wanted to be four years ago will come to be, and I will feel right wearing it again. – Nikita P.

To learn more about Nikita’s necklace and label, listen to The Museum of Where We Are Podcast, Season 4, Episode 6!

Rice Paper Floor Lamp

HAY, Denmark, circa 2023, rice paper, bamboo, aluminum, height: 22.12”

The bamboo skeleton gently stretches the rice paper and is perched upon aluminum legs, which provide a secure structure for the expanding material. This embodies the environment I sought to foster in my new home. The move from New York to Philadelphia was a conscious decision to reshape my environment, to create a space where I could stretch and grow into myself. This lamp entered my life during this time of transition. I had just signed the lease for my new apartment. I was coping with a sense of loss, deep loneliness, and sorrow. I was completely in the dark with my hardships. This simple lamp illuminated my new space, an environment where I would be fiercely intentional about cultivating safety and peace. As the world darkens outside, my silent companion emits a warm glow. It is both nurturing and functional, and above all, honest in its mission. – Jordan R.

Gromit Mug

Half Moon Bay, Stephens Way, Warminster, United Kingdom (made in China), circa 2020, ceramic, height: 4.25”

Two years ago, this mug fell off my desk and, when it hit the ground, the handle shattered. When it broke, it felt as if a piece of my soul had gone with it. I initially bought this mug because it was an internet trend, making the rounds on social media as an object of desire, or a “meme.” For a moment, the Gromit mug became a symbol for being “in on the joke,” a badge of honor to indicate to everyone else that you were “hip.” Due to the fast-moving culture on the internet, most people are no longer interested in the mug, but for me, it has transcended being a temporary gag and has become a cherished symbol of my journey throughout early adulthood. It represents a time when I was concerned with trying to be someone else to “fit in.” Like the Gromit mug, I may not be perfect, I may even be a little broken, but that is okay. I have become much more comfortable in my own skin, and while Gromit himself was not what led me to this growth, he was there with me through it all, dutifully holding my pens and pencils. – Cody H.

Square Wooden Box

circa 2016, wood, metal, height: 2.5”

Can everyday objects be heroes? I never would have guessed that I would see this square wooden box as one, but it has the battle scars to prove that it is.

The imperfections of an object can tell many different stories. While this box has obvious gashes, the wound that holds the most significance to me is one dent on the inside of its brim. It was from enduring a hit from one of the corners of my stone d20 while my party and I were fighting the main villain of our Dungeons & Dragons campaign. We were on our last legs, but so was he. It was my turn, and I needed this roll to count. My Game Master had a house rule where if you have a dice box and your roll lands outside of it, the roll does not count. I made my roll and momentarily dreaded seeing it hit the brim of my box, but thankfully, it caught the die and helped us kill the great evil. 

Thanks to this square wooden box, our party came out of the battle victorious. Because of this heroic act, I would say that yes, everyday objects can be heroes. – Sophie Y.

Uzbek Tea Set

Artistic Ceramics of Uzbekistan, Yusui, Uzbekistan, circa 1978, porcelain, gold, cup height: 3.2,” teapot height: 9”

This eye-catching tea set represents how hard working and tenacious my family is, and I aspire to be just like them. It has been alongside my family through every hardship and success, providing a warm drink for comfort. My family grew up in Uzbekistan and did not have the same luxuries they have now. They had to work harder than everybody else to survive. Even though they did not have much, they had this handmade tea set. After every hard workday, every stressful day, my family would come home to a warm cup of tea. I listened to them talk and laugh together. Even now, having tea together has remained a constant in our lives that brings us together. Once opportunity struck, my family moved to America and took our tea set with us. Eventually, my family rose to the top, and continued using this set. It not only reminds me of my family but also my culture. I was young when we moved, so I did not get to fully connect to my culture. Even though I do not remember my time in Uzbekistan, I still feel connected to my culture and family whenever I have a cup of tea. – Yasmina S.

Gold Watch

Citizen, circa 2018, gold, silver, length: 6.5”

Have I changed since high school? My best friend at the time and I bought matching watches for ourselves to commemorate graduating from high school. This watch is very much a symbol of my past. It is rarely on my wrist nowadays, no longer matches my personality, and I no longer talk to the owner of the watches’ twin. The flashy gold contrasted by silver with small diamonds on the face instantly jumps out at the viewer. The gold surrounds the black face, connected to a silver band with gold down the middle. The watch and I are not at all similar. I try to blend in and not cause attention to myself, but this is not the story my watch tells. The gold watch screams “look at me!” I am not sure what caused me to buy the watch in the first place. Maybe I wanted someone to notice me. Maybe I wanted to pretend I was something I was not. I feel pity for the watch because it should have a better owner, someone that would proudly display its beauty on their wrist. Someone with the same personality as the watch should have it, not me. – Jack P.

Sari Quilt

Tara R., Mysore, India, 2005, silk, cotton, nylon, length: 72”

Why do I hold on to this quilt?

Across cities, seas, and climates, it reminds me of a peculiar dichotomy, of steely resilience and benevolent warmth both layered into one.

On an unbearably hot night, about fifteen summers ago, my mother handed me a quilt after much digging around. The bold patterns and the impossibly soft sheen of my grandmother’s saris that make up this eccentric piece were a delightful break from the minimalist aesthetic of my possessions.

An obvious reason I held on to it is that it reminds me of home. But my attachment to it has another facet, this curious sense of pride. I picture my great-aunt, this solemn woman with razor sharp focus, as she crafts this piece. It is a tangible connection to my grandmother; she wore these saris in the prime of her life when my own mother was just a kid. It reminds me of her quiet strength and tireless spirit in raising and nurturing a family of six in all varieties of calamitous circumstances. It reminds me of the long line of outrageously strong women in my family whose shoulders I stand on. – Nihitha S.

To learn more about Nihitha’s sari quilt and label, listen to The Museum of Where We Are Podcast, Season 4, Episode 3!

Rainbow Mug

FTD Florists, 1984, ceramic, height: 3.75”

Years ago, I spotted this mug upon its proud post, tucked alongside the rows of left-behind ceramics at a local thrift store. It was love at first sight. My mother made a comment at its design affectionately, as if to point out the similarities between it and myself.

I already had plenty of mugs, but this one? I would be lying if I said I bought it for any reason besides being gay.

The rainbow emblazoned upon it struck a chord of kinship: something bold, conspicuous, and queer among the arrays of normal and safe patterns, as was I. There is a bond between queerness in all its forms, between man and man, between man and mug. It cannot deny what it is, just as I cannot.

The mug, however, is easy to care for, and easy to please. When chosen out of the colorful, queer assortment of cups I own, it is actualized in this simplest of acts. I can only hope to share such simple, marvelous joy.

When you hold it, cupped in your hands, heat wafting through the morning air, it feels like it was meant to be there. – Quinn A.

Hive Worm Plush

Bungie, Numskull Designs, 2022, fabric, length: 13”

Everyone has things they fear and, typically, a way to cope with said fear. This plush, for me, is one such way of coping. The Hive Worm Plush is a recreation of a character from the game Destiny. These creatures make their hosts into eldritch monsters that skitter about in the Dark and slaughter entire worlds, traumatizing what little may survive. These worms are the harbingers behind the biggest threat to the Milky Way. The plush’s morbid, grub-like appearance both adheres to this motif of death and consumption and provides a tactile experience akin to that of a football. A trinity of neon-green, glow-in-the-dark eyes adorn its stubby, mossy head. Burnt and rotten brown fuzz constitutes the three pairs of spikes along its spine, its belly and the little legs attached, and the pronged tail. Those small defenses are the only protection for these pitiful creatures when separated from their host. For they are, in the end, only cowards that hide in the Darkness from the Light. – Connor R.

Pewter Hand Engraved St. Christopher Necklace

Hamilton Jewelers, Hamilton, New Jersey, United States, 1997, pewter, length: 18”

He is a constant companion in my travels, a protective shield when exploring the unknown. This handmade pewter jewelry, passed down by my late great-grandfather, found its place not only around my neck but in the very fabric of my adventures. Engraved by hand, Saint Christopher watches over me, a patron for travelers, a guardian through my journeys. He primarily shines in my room, though his impact and presence are felt far beyond that space.

The narrative of this piece intertwines with personal adventures and milestones; it ventured with me beyond borders, to the Dominican Republic, a place then new to me. He helped guide me back to my hotel when I got lost outside our resort. Dangling around my neck, he was not an accessory; he was my courage, helping me fight against the apprehension of new challenges.

He provides me with fashion, as this necklace is a statement, a complement to the outward portrayal of my identity. Outside of fashion and beyond travel, this St. Christopher pendant stands as a testament to heritage, protection, and a trophy that fills me with confidence, wherever I may venture. – Patrick C.

Floral Plastic Bowl

Vinh Co Plastic. Inc, Tan An City, Long An, Vietnam, circa 2022, plastic, height: 3.5”

I carried this big bowl from Vietnam, hoping it would bring home a piece of my motherland. But it comes with a transaction as well. It is designed for family meals, hinting at actions and duties I yearn to fulfill.

“Fill me up,” its voluminous form yells at me, “with enough food for your entire family!” I want to fill the bowl, "Up to that blue line!” But I am the only one who finishes the food and ends up overeating every day. The bowl’s weight grows as food is added, demanding care as I carry it. The flaring mouth reminds me to hold it with two hands and bow down while putting it on my table, much as my parents in Vietnam taught me to give and take things with both hands to show respect. However, when dining here in the United States, alone, after stooping down to settle the bowl and admiring its flowers, I look up and find only the empty side of the table. 

The bowl dictates a transaction I cannot complete. However, I embrace this failure as the bowl treasures a piece of my Vietnam, marking my journey to this new land. – Tin T.

Photograph

August 8th, 2019, Instax Fujifilm, height: 3.4”

I have pinned or taped this photograph to the bedroom wall of every apartment I have lived in since it was taken. Every time it catches my eye, I am pulled into the gravity of this moment, fused to the film and the plastic encasing it.

One month into backpacking through Europe at 17, my best friend and I threw down our bags, tired, having spent the night wandering around a city we did not know. We savored some chips and a handful of landjäger, a Southern German sausage. She opened the curtains behind the bed expecting to reveal sunlight but just found more grey wall. We laughed as she called her mother, letting her know we arrived safe. I picked up the Instax camera and listened for the whirr of the flash charging up before I pressed the photo button. I stared down at the developing photo, pretending to not blow air on it to hastily speed up its reveal. I watched as the black film grew spots, and the spots took shape. I remember thinking this was the kind of photograph you show your kids.

Slightly sun-bleached now, it shares a memory I hope will never disappear.  – Sophia P.

Silver Cuban Link Curb Chain

Miabella, Italy, circa 2018, solid 925 sterling silver, length: 20”

My girlfriend gave me this necklace for our one-year anniversary. We had just moved to a new state to attend college. The chain served as a reminder that I had people to count on. Over the years, the pristine silver chain has endured injuries, broken links, and regular wear during my own daily toils. Despite this, the necklace shines just as brightly as the first day I received it. It is the only necklace I have ever owned, and I have worn it every day since I got it. To me, the necklace is a source of solace that I can carry around with me. Whenever there are moments of doubt, feeling the small links of sterling silver on my fingers strengthens me with the connections I have with my loved ones and fills me with thoughts of home. Although it is made of cheap material, this necklace feels like a magical heirloom worth a thousand jewels. – Parker S.

D&D 5th Edition Player’s Handbook

Wizards of the Coast, Seattle, Washington, United States, circa 2014, paper, cardstock, ink, height: 11”

“An unnecessary necessity” are the first words that pop into my head when I think about this book. The turbulent life of a college student, constantly moving and changing as you learn how to be an adult, makes it difficult to keep frivolous things with you. And what could be more frivolous than a large, heavy book that is available online? Yet the pristine digital copy does not have the wear I cherish. This wear takes me back to some of my fondest memories sitting around the table with friends playing a game that has inspired my path in life. It recalls years of shoving the book into my backpack, the corners getting beat up week after week, and frantically flipping through pages looking for a specific line. The stories conjured by the wear and tear of this copy are mine and mine alone, a grounding force as the whirlwind of life churns and grows. I cannot imagine leaving the memories locked in this book behind, no matter how annoying it can be to pack. This book will always be a necessity to have in my home, no matter how unnecessary it might seem. – Zac M.

Decorative Vase

Thailand, 2020, pottery, height: 12”

Writing this label helped me realize that this vase is more than just a decorative piece sitting in my college bedroom. Five years ago, I was just an insecure sixteen-year-old girl looking for my first job. I landed at the Marshalls in my town. It never crossed my mind that this place would change me. I started there as the quiet girl barely noticed. Through my high school years, I grew as a person not only from working in retail, but because of the people I worked with. I formed lifelong connections with my coworkers, whether they were my age, twenty years older, or my boss. They watched me grow from a timid teenager to the ambitious, confident, and driven woman I am today. I debated buying this vase every shift for weeks leading up to when I left for college freshman year. I thought it was another one of my impulse buys, but now I realize that it is a reminder of my coworkers back home who are there to encourage me through life's journeys. – Lydia J.

To learn more about Lydia’s vase and label, listen to The Museum of Where We Are Podcast, Season 4, Episode 5!

Blue Urn Necklace

circa 2023, string, metal, glass, ashes, length: 18”

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. This is my first year without you, the first year you could rest. This first year sucks. I should not have to remember the last time I heard your laugh, asked you for advice, shook your hand. If I knew that goodbye was goodbye, I would not have left. What if I stayed a few more hours, a few more minutes, just a second longer? Could it have changed the outcome of that day? Or would I have seen it all play out? I already did. The day of my best friend’s uncle passing I dreamt of yours. I felt it. I was there. I heard your last breath, I felt your pain, and then it was gone. I am stuck with your ashes. I may not understand why you had to go, or where you went, but I am left with enough of your memory and your joy within these small particles of dust that hang from my neck. I know I will see you soon, and will no longer carry that weight anymore. – Kolton J.

Olympus Infinity Stylus

Maitani Yoshihisa (designer), Olympus Cameras, Japan, 1991-2004, plastic, metal, glass, height: 4.7”

A camera gives the holder the means to document the world and capture life through their lens. With this camera, I document the world and capture life, just as Harold E. Gruen did. I found this Olympus Infinity Stylus at a thrift store in California a couple years ago. From a name tag stuck to the back, I was able to learn about the man who wielded the camera before me. Harold earned his Master of Science in Electrical Engineering in 1959 and worked as an electronics manufacturer all over the United States before landing in Santa Barbara in 1966, where he passed in 2019. When taking pictures with the camera, I like to think about what he would have shot. I wonder what the pictures he shot look like and where they are now. Learning about the previous owner of the camera gave me another reason to shoot with it. I am motivated to document with this camera not only because I like to take pictures, but because I believe that Harold would want me to continue to capture life with our Stylus. – Kai Z.

Philadelphia Flyers Gritty Mascot Plush

Squishable, New York, United States, circa 2019, polyester fiber, height: 10”

“He’ll reach into the depths of your soul, better not look too long,” I facetiously exclaim when guests ask about the rotund, mischievous creature perched precariously by my entryway. I used to hate this plush of Gritty (the mascot of the Philadelphia Flyers), describing him disparagingly as “the sun logo from CBS Morning News combined with a three-year-old’s middling attempt to draw a lion.” I eventually warmed to him though, seeing as my old roommates cherished the little guy. In joking reverence, they constructed shrines to him in our dorm complete with absurd Gritty tribute paintings, pinup drawings, candles, and poetry. Friends, acquaintances, and strangers all joined in, planting pictures of Gritty in obscure locations around campus, and engulfing entire walls in constellations of memes. Now, years later, he sits alone in my apartment. Matted tufts of orange fur keep him from sitting upright. He desperately attempts to roll back to when he was surrounded by the soft laughter of friends. For as much as he brings me joy, my adoration is cut by a sharp sorrow as I reminisce about these past friendships. I should have followed my own advice: best not to look at him for too long. – Emma M.

To learn more about Emma’s Gritty Plush and label, listen to The Museum of Where We Are Podcast, Season 4, Episode 4!

Cold Brew Bottle

Rook Coffee, Wall Township, New Jersey, United States, 2024, glass, paper label, height: 8”

This bottle is my companion on the drive back to Philadelphia. It sits buckled into the passenger seat with squared shoulders and quiet dignity. In its smoky glass, I see a warped reflection of my messy hair and black-smudge eyes. As I look closer, I glimpse the shadow of a younger girl having her first sip of this coffee, eager to quit her part-time job and start college. I blink and she vanishes.

We drive in silence. The aches in my back—resulting from hours at my desk—pull my focus, and I roll my shoulders to ease the tension. The bottle remains proud and unsympathetic.

Back in my apartment, I ration the coffee throughout the week, returning to it like the tide returns to the shores I call home. I chase the image of that girl haunting the amber glass, hoping to steal her joy and call it mine again. I want to stand tall and proud, like the dignified bottle in this one-sided relationship. It does not need me, but I need it.

Instead, I hunch over my desk, shoulders slumping, hoping that one day I will drink enough coffee to feel like that ambitious young girl again. – Jillian T.

Three-Legged Windsor Chair

circa 2020-2022, Wood, height: 38”

“Don’t sit on me!” My plea falls on deaf ears. The figure transforms from a looming presence to an unbearable weight. I brace myself against the wall behind me for dear life to stay upright, but I feel myself slipping—slowly at first, then all at once, with a sudden crash.

I ache from more than just the fall; every pang of pain reminds me that I am unreliable and unusable. Once, my legs were solid and unyielding—my back, steady and inviting. I was sturdy and sure-footed, a comforting and comfortable presence. Now, I am a wounded veteran leaning on a crutch, being lifted back up after falling.

In the following silence, I stand again, leaning against the wall with new resolve. The desk stands to my right, the bed waits ahead, and the wall steadies me from behind, all keeping vigil in a silent, supportive stillness—like the quiet solidarity of a hospital room.

The comfort I provide still exists, like the quiet presence of an elder who does not need to speak to be understood. Yet, time has worn me down. Soon, I will be discarded. For now, I brace myself against the looming silence of abandonment. – Alexander E.

Want to learn more about Alexander’s chair and label? Stay tuned for Season 5 of The Museum of Where We Are Podcast coming in winter/spring 2025!

Pair of Gel Ink Ballpoint Pens

Mujirushi Ryōhin (無印良品), Bunkyo City, Tokyo, Japan, circa 2019, Polypropylene plastic, ABS resin plastic, length: 5.5”

There is beauty in the mundane. The translucent white bodies of these twin Muji ballpoint pens elude any expressive colors, patterns, or designs our modern world typically associates with beauty. They are pens—nothing more, nothing less.

Yet, the minimalistic mundanity of these pens emanates freedom. Unlike pens with contoured grips, they do not command you to hold them in any particular way. Unlike pens decorated with vivid colors and ornate designs, they do not impose any personality upon you. Their unassuming plastic bodies embrace their function by freeing you from the pressure to treasure them as high-end tools. Although designed to be disposable and plain, they are paradoxically reliable and beautiful.

During the last four years they have served me, these twins have conquered hundreds of pages with information that has mostly faded from my memory. You can see their battle scars through their translucent bodies as scratches and dust lodged in tiny crevices. The beauty of these pens is not found in what they offer, but in what they choose to omit. It is in their embrace of simplicity, in their celebration of what is not there, that you find their true value. – Yalguun M.

Want to learn more about Yalguun’s pens and label? Stay tuned for Season 5 of The Museum of Where We Are Podcast coming in winter/spring 2025!

SEPTA Key Card

Pathway Financial Inc., Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, United States, 2021, plastic, silicon chip, height: 3.375”

This unassuming teal card has been my key to navigating Philadelphia with ease, but it also forces me to confront the real and complex lives of the riders around me. Though sometimes I feel overwhelmed, I am drawn to such an unfiltered glimpse of humanity.

Growing up in the suburbs, traveling alone by car, isolated among other drivers, was the only way to get around. Now, every trip on the SEPTA system brings together a unique gathering of many people in one confined space where it is impossible to ignore everyone’s shared humanity. I see people sleeping on the subway because they have nowhere else to sleep; people with canes giving up their priority seats on buses to those with walkers; teenagers with little to do but get into trouble; and train conductors begrudgingly letting some people ride free because they know some riders cannot pay. So many acts of both cruelty and compassion occur in every bus, trolley, and train car.

My SEPTA Key Card provides not only the freedom to explore my city but also a window into the lives of my fellow travelers. Each trip reveals so many aspects of humanity that is rarely displayed so unfiltered. – Eli G.

Mushroom Disco Ball

circa 2023, Styrofoam, iridescent foil, plastic mirror pieces, hot glue, height: 7”

Who would decorate their wedding with mushroom-shaped disco-balls? The mushroom disco ball that hangs from the ceiling in my living room came from a major life event of a stranger. In October of 2023, I took this decoration home from my job at World Cafe Live. It was a leftover decoration from a wedding held the night of the 14th. I convinced one of my coworkers to snag one for me after I saw a trio of these mushrooms sitting on the bar that night. It joins a collection of leftovers from weddings and other celebrations I have worked. I never knew I wanted or needed these things, but they were free, and like most college students, I love free things. They now collect dust in their various places of presentation. The world is such a big place, and we own so many things that have played a major part in someone’s life but only play a small part in our own. When I look at these things that have claimed their home in my tiny apartment, I see the human experience and the millions of connections created via objects to people we do not know. – Ian G.

Souvenir Bottle Opener Magnet

Welcome to Las Vegas Gift Shop, Las Vegas, Nevada, United States, circa 2023, acrylic, stainless steel, height: 5.5”

The charm of this magnet lies in its contradictions: its babyish proportions conflict with its adult content; the sturdiness of the steel tab contrasts with the cheapness of the acrylic bottle; and its attention to detail betrays any common assumptions about a novelty souvenir.

My family has a tradition of collecting fridge magnets from every destination we visit. At home, our fridge was a collage of our travels, with scarcely any surface area to spare. When I moved into my first apartment, my new refrigerator was barren and lifeless—a sorrowful monument to the life I had to leave behind.

But when I began planning my own trips, I realized our tradition did not have to end. This magnet was the first of many trophies to come home with me from my adventures. Now, when I look at my fridge, I do not see a mere collection of souvenirs, I see a window to my family home.

Purchasing this magnet was both the start of something new and the preservation of something old; it is both a protest against growing up, and a symbol of new beginnings; and finally, this magnet draws me closer to my family, despite our distance. – Cam S.

Sterling by Music Man StingRay Ray34FM Bass Guitar (Cherry Burst)

Sterling by Music Man, Los Angeles, California, United States, late 2010s, Solid wood body, neck and fretboard, with steel bridge, controls, and strings, and plastic pick guard, length: 44”

Trust the process. I have never been good at putting that advice to use. The process is difficult, takes time, and is seldom linear. With constant deadlines, I am hesitant to give the process my trust.

Yet when I play this bass, I am reminded that there is value in trusting the process.

When I first started playing, I used a beginner guitar on loan from a friend. The process—practicing new songs, analyzing bass lines in songs, hand stretches, trying new tones and strumming patterns—became part of my life. After countless hours, I got better.

That improvement was what convinced me to buy this bass guitar. I felt that I was skilled enough to own it. The precision-tuned action and larger fretboard seemed to match my hands’ improved speed, accuracy, and reach. The eye-catching red and orange cherry burst finish reflected my growing confidence.

This bass is my reminder that I have made so much progress from where I started. When I casually practice a song that I used to think was impossible to play, I find comfort knowing that the hard work I put in is making a difference, that the process is working. – John G.

Want to learn more about John’s bass guitar and label? Stay tuned for Season 5 of The Museum of Where We Are Podcast coming in winter/spring 2025!

Snake Thumb Ring

Samuel B. Artisan Jewelry, New York, United States of America, circa 2017, Oxidized sterling silver, Size 8

Do you love me? I reach out to you, yet you shove me away because my version of comfort is too much for you to handle. A hug is all I want. Instead, you gift me a snake ring. Its coiling body wraps around my finger in a cold embrace, imprinting on my skin to remind me of your clutch on my life.

In your eyes, snakes are slimy creatures of deception from the Devil. However, I see snakes as symbols of resilience and strength. You are the snake, protecting me when you cannot be there.

Yet, this ring is not you. Nor can it make up for ten years of lost memories and what-ifs. This ring is your way of saying “I love you” despite our tension. We disagree on many things, and our conversations are more like arguments. The dents and scrapes in the metal tally our turmoil. Your opportunity to understand me slithered away when you chose your career over me. It was necessary for our survival, but at the cost of our relationship.

I still love you, and this ring reminds me that you love me. I just wish you could say it to my face. – Em C.

Want to learn more about Em’s ring and label? Stay tuned for Season 5 of The Museum of Where We Are Podcast coming in winter/spring 2025!

Khăn Lụa

Vietnamese Artisan, Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam, circa 2000-2024, silk fabric, length: 78”

This khăn lụa (silk scarf) from Vietnam is more than just a beautiful accessory—it symbolizes my personal reconnection with my cultural roots. I acquired it during a meaningful trip back to Vietnam, marking my return to my homeland after many years without a visit. The scarf serves as a constant reminder of the personal growth and deeper cultural understanding I gained by embracing my heritage, something I had been distanced from while living away.

The khăn lụa features a striking design in warm brown and gold, with elegant motifs of elephants and flowers, symbols that represent strength, wisdom, and prosperity in Southeast Asian culture. The intricate patterns reflect the skill of the artisans who handcrafted it, giving the scarf a unique texture. Its slightly coarser silk speaks to the traditional weaving techniques passed down through generations.

More than just a piece of fabric, this khăn lụa is a personal link to my heritage. It invites me to reflect on my journey of reconnecting with my roots and embracing who I am. Whether I wear it or display it, this khăn lụa serves as a powerful reminder of my cultural pride and the experiences that shaped me. – Nhut D.

Novelty Butterbeer Mug

Universal Studios, Orlando, Florida, United States, circa 2014, frosted plastic, printed label paper, height: 4.5”

This object reminds me of a little boy. This child is not Harry Potter as one might expect if they are familiar with Butterbeer. That child is me. Picture a boy sitting in front of a projector watching movie after movie, film after film, all because he loves it. He loves everything about it, the spectacle, the characters, the production process, the spark of an idea brought to the silver screen to inspire and entertain. I got this mug when I was that little boy. But somewhere along the line I became someone else, someone I still like, someone I still respect, but just not the same. Despite that, I still have a little mug that I cannot bring myself to throw away. It is no longer filled with the Butterbeer of a fictional magical world; instead, it is filled with coffee, water, or iced tea. Just like me, it contains a different persona, a new soul—one that is less fantastical, less fun. But ultimately? Ultimately, it still holds the same shape—a shape that is a reminder of who I was, a reflection on who I am, and a dream of who I wish to be. – AJ L.

Sora Amiibo

Nintendo, Kyoto, Japan, circa 2024, PVC, height: 3.6”

I like to collect a lot of things, but if you look at my amiibo collection (amiibo being plastic figures developed by Nintendo that can interact with your game when tapped to the controller), you will notice that one in particular is featured front and center: my Sora amiibo, which is a reminder not only of my love for his origin game, Kingdom Hearts, but also my love for gaming as a whole. Think back to the early 2000s: the static of the CRT in the back room of your childhood home, flicking on a new game or TV show, the excitement of starting what may define your taste in media. For me that was the action role-playing game Kingdom Hearts by Square Enix. My taste in video games has expanded to include many more favorites over the past twenty-ish years, including other role-playing games like Final Fantasy and other genres such as open world sandboxes. Despite this, my Sora amiibo will always be proudly displayed on my entertainment stand, representing my love for the series that started me on my gaming journey and made me who I am today.­­­ – Skye P.

Hot Wheels 1977 Pontiac Firebird

Mattel, Inc., El Segundo, California, United States, circa 2020, metal, plastic, length: 2.5”

I drive down the highway, Bad Company on the stereo, with my 1977 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am. However, I am actually driving an old Chevy Equinox. The Firebird is nothing but a toy car with plastic wheels on tiny metal sticks, and a hood scoop fueling a hollow interior, instead of the true throaty V8. I reminisce about a time I have never seen in person. The Firebird sits atop a shelf in my room. The room is accented with various Jimi Hendrix and Cream posters as well as other 70s memorabilia. I glance at the car now and then from my vintage office chair. Glimpses of the present leak into the room, peering through my computer or the tv sitting on the dresser. But the past is always there. Jimmy Page shreds the barrier between the past and the present through my computer’s speakers. Maybe one day, I will not be sitting in the office chair or the nylon seats of my Equinox. I will be behind the wheel of a real Trans Am, driving down the same highway, without any distractions—just an open road with nowhere to be, yet so many places to go. – Rocky A.

Jade Banker’s Lamp

Unknown maker, United States of America, circa 20th Century, brass, glass, rubberized electrical cable, height: 15”

The only relief for my childhood fear of the darkness was the holy glow of a desk lamp in my room. Perched upon my nightstand, the device stood stalwart in defense of the terrors that thrived outside of its warm embrace. At night, all the lamps in my house were turned off except for mine. Decades later, a different warrior sits upon the desk in my college dorm. My anxieties have transformed beyond the darkness it breaks through, but my banker’s lamp serves the same purpose as my lamp back home. Its jade hue reflects off the tarnished and scraped brass stand that hoists the bulb above. Though it is worn and aged, its glow emanates the same warmth and security that radiates from underneath the shades back home. This lamp’s journey alongside me as I stray further from home supplies me with the confidence that my light goes on and off when I decide, and that I have the tools to tackle the challenges before me. I am no longer afraid of the dark, because I possess the power to face it whenever I am ready. – Shane W.

Want to learn more about Shane’s lamp and label? Stay tuned for Season 5 of The Museum of Where We Are Podcast coming in winter/spring 2025!

Mr. Coffee Pot

Mr. Coffee, Target in Central New Jersey, United States, circa 2021, plastic, glass, metal, height: 14”

I do not like this object. 

Maybe that is not fair since it reliably does its one job without problems: it makes drip coffee. 

I guess what I mean is I do not like drip coffee.

That being said, I still drink it every day. My Mr. Coffee pot has been my tireless companion since I moved to Philly. Its plastic body is splattered with flecks of grease from my stove. The bottom of its glass pot is stained brown from years of early-morning concoctions. The machine still makes a neutral click after I press the brew button, and no matter how stressed or exhausted I am, that click always makes me feel a little happier.

I have moved over a dozen times. On every counter in every tiny apartment, crowded duplex, musty hotel room, and claustrophobic house, there has been a coffee pot. This one consistency is part of my life. It is not pretty, and does not taste the best, but it is mine. It makes me a little happier every day. No matter what my counter looks like in the future, it will always have a coffee pot. - Kalyn Q.

Pikachu Pokédoll (Peeky)

Pokémon Center, circa 2005, velboa polyester, height: 6”

On Christmas Eve, Peeky disappeared.

I was in kindergarten. The son of a family friend had playfully hidden him from me, then forgot where he left him. I remember crying, my family searching for him, and the apology present his kidnapper gave me the following morning. I was sad, but it was an accident. Big girls are supposed to grow out of their childhood toys anyway.

On Halloween Night, Peeky reappeared.

Two years had passed, and I was now in second grade. I had lost all my friends to moving vans or new friend groups. I was beginning to learn my place in the world: the person people grew out of, a temporary playmate swiftly rendered obsolete when someone or something better came along. So, when my Mom found Peeky gathering dust in our basement on Halloween of all nights, I knew he had been summoned to keep me company. In my gratitude, I promised that I would never let him be left behind the same way I had been. 

Right now, Peeky sits on my bed in my apartment, watching me write this label with his ever-present expression of mellow mischief. My oldest friend, you deserve to be loved. – Isabella N.

Perfume Bottle

Zadig and Voltaire, Made in France, 2016, glass bottle, Eau de Parfum fragrance, height: 3.3”

People often tell me, “You remind me so much of your mom.” By this, they usually mean I look like her—a compliment I wear with pride. Yet, it is my mother’s character that I most hope to embody. Her warm presence leaves an indelible mark on everyone she meets.

Now, as I live more than 3,000 miles away from home, this bottle of her signature perfume connects me to her in ways modern means of communication cannot. Although I cherish our long calls, filled with the details of our days lived apart, they often amplify the distance, and I feel her absence all the more acutely.

This bottle contains a piece of her essence that I can carry with me—something that feels real, like I can breathe her in and hold her close. When I spray this fragrance, the space around me fills with her comforting presence, and I am reminded of the qualities I admire in her so much. As it warms on my skin and projects its scent throughout the day, I think of her compassion, her humility, and the many other qualities that make her a light I hope to reflect in the world. – Lily J.

“Treats for Santa” Spatula

Ciroa, Australia, April 2021, silicone and wood, length: 12”

The brilliant red “Treats for Santa” spatula is a beacon of disorder in my kitchen. We sort our aesthetics into seasons, each shade assigned its proper time and place. The human mind has divided our grays, blues, reds, and greens into times of the year and weather patterns. This order is part of the rat race generated by producers of taste. Yet, if you find yourself, like I do, a rat walking a bit far behind this race, your home might also be an abominable mix of aesthetics. Eleven months out of the year the spatula sits there—a polar bear in a savanna. This object is a creature outside its habitat, and I think too hard about how to accommodate it. I have tried storing it, but the wooden handle is too luxurious to give up. So, I let this creature roam this ecosystem as if it fits. When the appropriate season comes, the red silicone might not feel so alone. In our rush to embrace these seasonal moments, decorations become quests for endless acquisition. Regardless of the order we prescribe to our homes, we are powerless to control circumstances. The environment is naturally formed, naturally disordered. – Brigitte L.

Blackwing Matte Pencil

Blackwing, Stockton, California, United States, circa 2019, wood, graphite, metal, and rubber, length: 7”

In my sophomore year of high school, my screenwriting teacher told me something that changed my life. “Find a writing utensil that you can use for the rest of your life. It should become an extension of your body.” I took this to heart and set out on a mission to find my lifetime writing partner.

My teacher passed away the following summer. It was one of the hardest losses I have dealt with. I directed a lot of my sadness into my mission to find my writing implement. Eventually, I came across the Blackwing Matte Pencil. It had been right in front of me my whole life. My parents, both with architecture backgrounds, used this pencil to draft. But for me, the pencil was different.

I am left-handed. Most lead smears across my hand, leaving dark streaks of graphite. The Blackwing pencil, however, understands my pain; it is nice to me. It does not smear when I drag my hand across the already written words. The graphite stays firmly on the paper. When I write with it, I think of my screenwriting teacher, and how happy he would be to see me and my pencil, writing in harmony. – Bug N.

MX Vertical Computer Mouse

Logitech International S.A., Lausanne, Switzerland, circa 2021, plastic and metal, height: 4.72”

“What is it?”

“A computer mouse,” I would always say. But is that true? Have I misinformed the dozens of people that have asked this question?

When I first used it, I thought I bought an engineering experiment instead of consumer hardware.

The mouse demands that you hold it like shaking a hand; to properly utilize this mouse would take adjusting. My purchase was motivated by its ergonomics; however, I feared this critical paradigm shift would motivate its refund. That could not have been further from the truth.

For three years, this mouse has accompanied me throughout my digital ventures. It has been present for every website explored, paper typed, and game played. It is now the case that using my trackpad, or even another mouse, feels off.

This device is like an extra limb or appendage—an extension of myself. It makes activities easier and grants me more confidence in whatever I do. It would not even be a stretch to call this device a companion.

“What is it?”

“A computer mouse” may not be the best descriptor. – Joshua W.

Want to learn more about Joshua’s “computer mouse” and label? Stay tuned for Season 5 of The Museum of Where We Are Podcast coming in winter/spring 2025!

Sherpa Blanket

Cuddl Duds McAlester, Oklahoma, United States, circa 2022, polyester, length: 60”

What does it mean for an object to carry warmth beyond temperature alone? This sherpa blanket, gifted to me by my girlfriend, is not just a functional item for staying warm, but a layered symbol of intimacy and the memories woven between us. It urges us to slow down, to recognize the love embedded in its soft folds, and to appreciate the physical presence of warmth, a gift not only of temperature, but of memory and affection. The plush, velvety surface juxtaposed with the thick, wool-like texture recalls feelings of safety and home embodying the universal desire for connection. Its cloud-like fibers envelop you, mimicking the warm embrace of a loved one. Receiving it as a gift adds layers of emotional value making it an artifact of my relationship, a reminder that I am cared for, even in moments of solitude. In our fast-paced, increasingly digital world, where much of our day is spent in abstract thought or virtual spaces, how precious is the tangible comfort of a gifted blanket? – Nicky J.

Giraffe Plushie

Peek-A-Boo Toys Ltd., New Jersey, United States, circa 2010s, cotton, faux fur, height: 24”

“Oh, we probably forgot to attach a price tag. You can just take it home if you want,” the thrift store owner said, surprising me as I held the giraffe plushie. It was the size of a small dog, with tawny brown and cream-colored shaggy fur, soft and huggable. I could not believe no one else had taken him. I felt lucky to bring him home.

This priceless giraffe has been my comfort plushie and travel buddy for roughly nine months. Constantly moving between cities, I cannot help but feel lonely at times. He is always there, reminding me that even if I feel distant from others, I always have a companion. When I miss home or the people I love, I hold him close and imagine that I am hugging them instead.

Sometimes I wonder about his past. How did his previous owner let him go? Their loss has become my gain. I want to take care of him on behalf of the person who loved him before me. He may not be the fanciest plushie out there. I paid zero cents to take him home, but I would not trade him for anything. – Kaylie N.

Kodak Pleaser Trimprint Instant Camera

Eastman Kodak Company Rochester, New York, United States, circa 1984, Plastic, metal, and glass, height: 4.5”

Lost in awe, I quickly bring the Pleaser Trimprint Camera to my eye and pan across the room. I spot my mother and grandmother rummaging through the closet underneath the stairs. Clawing away at old, dust-covered VHS tapes, analog televisions, and radios, they cough and hack, regretting the old memories they dig up. Removing the camera from my face, I notice askew black tiling displayed on the back of the camera. I press the camera to my mother’s face. “Look! It has your name on it!” I exclaim. For a moment, there is a sparkle in her eye, but quickly it fades. She continues her search for something more worthwhile. I tell her that the camera is perfect for my label assignment. With that, the sifting ceases.

This camera once meant something to my mother. The acidic battery cemented into the back reveals a bittersweet end to a long-gone childlike wonder, one ransacked by the burdens of life and learning to live. Newly in my possession, this camera sparks a lineage of passions, unlocking futures she had never imagined. Suddenly, knocking me from my contemplation, she asks, “Well … is it worth anything?” – Simone B.

Want to learn more about Simone’s camera and label? Stay tuned for Season 5 of The Museum of Where We Are Podcast coming in winter/spring 2025!

Lace Leaf in Potted Plant

The Home Depot, Harris Hill, New York, United States, circa 2008, ceramic, organic plant, height: 23”

The Lace Leaf is one of best indoor plants when it comes to brightening a space with vibrant, natural green colors. I have been growing mine for four years after I was given it by a family friend when I expressed interest in obtaining plants for my apartment in Philadelphia. Even though the growing conditions in said apartment were not optimal, which is evident from the many crooked leaves towards the top of the plant, it nevertheless was able to grow into the large green mass it is today. This resiliency is a factor that makes the Lace Leaf a great choice for first-time indoor plant owners. Another factor is that during the dull winters that occur in the city, having a plant like this can greatly brighten any space and provide anyone a much-needed respite from the harsh conditions outside. The success I had in raising this Lace Leaf inspired me to begin acquiring more plants, and I hope it can also inspire others to bring nature into their homes as well. As my personal collection grows ever larger, the Lace Leaf will always hold a central spot within my menagerie of plant life. – Owen M.

Black Embroidered Jacket

Volante Design, Easthampton, Massachusetts, United States, 2020, cotton, height: 24”

Having just finished my summer job before going to college, I decided to go to PAX West, a gaming convention. I felt that this jacket, which I bought there, fit me and helped to add to the overall aesthetic that I wanted to have with its simple black base and sharp red highlights. I wore it a lot at the beginning of college, and many friends began to associate it with me. But I wanted to make it something that would represent me even more. I knew how to do some basic embroidery, so I added the crest on the back. It is from the game Xenoblade Chronicles 2, which is very important to me because it is why I got interested in game design. Sometime after this, I noticed the tears on the elbows. Wanting to preserve the jacket, I decided to stop wearing it for a while. But it was not until recently that I reconsidered this. So, I started wearing it again, and I am very happy with that choice. I want this jacket to become part of my identity again and use it as a way to express what I like and who I am. – Tavin P.

NIKKOR 55-300mm Zoom Camera Lens

Nikon, Tokyo, Japan, Circa 2010s, ED glass and carbon fiber reinforced thermoplastic, diameter: 3.5”

The rubber grip tightens beneath my hand, its grooves pressing into my fingertips, coaxing the barrel to extend beyond distant landscapes into the depths of an evolving familial relationship. This lens has redefined my understanding of my brother and allowed me to appreciate the thoughtful ways he expresses his care. With no prior knowledge of cameras, he conducted weeks of research to select the perfect lens to be my companion as I photograph my way across the National Parks.

I once feared that his reserved demeanor would lead to distance between us as we grew older and no longer shared our childhood home. Instead, this gift quieted those fears as I began to grasp the depth of his consistent, understated immersion in my passions. Through the lens’ telescopic glass, I see our bond reshaped: no longer bound by the routines of shared living but by the conscious effort we put into staying close. As we step into adulthood, we are learning to communicate and stay connected on new terms. For now, the lens waits patiently on my desk, ready to capture both the beauty of the National Parks and the moments my brother and I will share on these adventures. – Olivia K.

Dritz Sharps Hand Needles – Size 9, Package of 20

Prym-Dritz Corporation, Spartanburg, South Carolina, United States, made in Czech Republic, circa 2023, lightweight cardboard, plastic, metal, package height: 2.44,” individual needle height: 1.34”

In spite of their fleeting existence, the significance of these needles endures.

The needles themselves are hardly anything of value. They are small, thin, and easily bent and rendered useless. They cost me only $2.52 at the art store with a 10% student discount and, as the internet advises, are meant to be disposed of after only eight hours of use. And yet, they are well-made, fine enough to be easily guided through layers of fabric without snagging. They are sharp, and do not dull easily. They are reliable; despite their recommended eight-hour lifespans, six of these needles have accompanied me for over 200 hours of hand sewing, of which I have discarded two.

With them, I have sewn an old, unusable sheet into a hand-drafted shirt that will last for decades. I have turned reclaimed upholstery fabric into a sixteenth-century-inspired cape, patched holes in fondly worn jeans, and reattached rogue buttons to old shirts. Each ephemeral needle lives on in every project I have crafted from once-obsolete materials and every garment I have repaired, not discarded. Because of them, bygone fashions, treasured possessions, and the person these possessions allow me to become—they endure. – Jay J.

A Blanket Named Snow

circa 1998 – 2000, cotton and polyester, length: 41”

It is not uncommon to bring a cherished childhood artifact when going to college, but it is uncommon for it to be present before birth. This blanket, previously known as “Blanky,” but recently renamed “Snow,” as I always pictured it as a layer of fresh snow on my bed, was one of my swaddling clothes gifted to me at my baby shower. It has a very different purpose today: by scratching the polyester trim, I can better re-center my mind and calm down. This has the unintended side-effect of inflicting damage on my blanket.

These scars on the trim remind me of a time I failed to care for myself, and how it hurt those I cared about. To this day, I sometimes resent the ignorance that defined my youth, and I consider packing away the blanket so as not to damage it any further. Yet as I ponder these things, I scratch the trim, and remind myself that I am that same person, and without those missteps, I would not be who I am today. And so I continue to scratch away as I did in those days, for as much as things change, they stay the same. – Gregory B.

Cat Keychain

Blippo, Japan, circa 2024, polyester fiber, cotton stuffing, plastic, height: 3.5”

I am the owner of half a pair of matching cat keychains. The owner of the second half lives over two thousand miles away in Los Angeles.

I met Jackie during my summer internship in L.A. I was far from home and more than a little lonely. Meeting her turned my to-be-isolating summer into an unforgettable three months of sunny laughter, blissful evening swims, and long midnight drives in the City of Angels. The keychains we purchased as a not-so-subtle “I will never forget you” gesture, and both of us vowed to never lose our halves. Jackie put hers up in her kitchen, and mine lives on a shelf in my bedroom. Sometimes I wonder if it would be better to just give in and hang the cat on my backpack, so that I might have Jackie with me wherever I go once again. But then I shake my head. Maybe I am too scared to lose one of the only reminders I have of a friend I may never see again. Our keychains stopped being keychains the moment we decided that they symbolized our friendship, and I would not risk losing mine for the world. – Arina G.

Mary Jane Necklace

Pietro Jewelers, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, United States, gold, necklace length: 9”

Are we truly gone after we pass?

I was handed a small white jewelry box. My sister was handed one after. “These are yours.” My mother’s voice cracked. Inside each box was a gold necklace. Mine had a Mary Jane charm; my sister’s had a sandal charm. I took mine out of the box. I clutched it tight as tears rolled down my face. She was gone, and this was all that was left of her.

My grandmother, Menya, owned a gold chain. When my older sister was born, Menya bought a gold sandal charm. When I was born, she added a gold Mary Jane shoe. She did the same for my younger cousin with a different shoe charm. She wore these charms every day.

After receiving this necklace, I have never taken it off. Scratches have tainted the metal. Chlorine from the pool has tarnished the color. Grime and gunk have built up inside.

When I feel anxious, I feel the charm in between my fingers. I hold it close how I once held my grandmother. I do not let go. I know she is here, with me, every moment of my life. – Jess F.

Super Nintendo Entertainment System: Classic Edition

Nintendo, Kyoto, Japan, circa 2017, Plastic, metal, and electronic components, width: 4.25”

What makes us keep coming back to old consoles? When I was gifted the Super Nintendo Entertainment System: Classic Edition (SNES Classic) on Christmas morning 2018, I asked myself: why should I care about a console from before my time? Yes, it reimagines the original console sold globally in the 90s, features twenty-one preloaded classic games, and serves as a window into the design and tone of games from its era. The SNES Classic captures a nostalgic era of games, where everything from gameplay and graphics were forced to function within the console’s limits.

I was largely unaware of the connection so many had with the original machine. Familiarity or lack thereof is not a contributing factor with the SNES Classic. The SNES Classic asks players to consider whether fun and quality can be aged. It then answers its own question with a resounding “no!” The console’s minimalistic design complements the simplicity of its software and juxtaposes the care and meticulous craftsmanship afforded by Nintendo to ensure a seamlessly intuitive experience. – Akintoye I.

Want to learn more about Akintoye’s SNES Classic and label? Stay tuned for Season 5 of The Museum of Where We Are Podcast coming in winter/spring 2025!

Build-A-Bear Plush

Build-A-Bear Workshop, Inc., St. Louis, Missouri, United States, circa 1997-2005, Polyester, cotton, satin, length: 15”

I could not imagine my life without this bear; it has been with me since I was born. I remember calling him Beary after my dad watched Storage Wars at dinner. Beary’s formerly fluffy fabric is now a well-loved matted mess. After twenty-one years, the pink shirt has faded, and the five gems are gone from years of anxiety picking. I brought Beary everywhere with me, including back and forth from my parents’ houses and surgeries. I even brought him with me to finally move to college, hiding him in my pillowcase. This has caused his stuffing to be almost gone, making him slightly flat. He has been on every one of my trips; it would feel like a crime not to bring him along. Returning for the holidays from my first semester of college, Beary comforted me through losses and milestones. – Phoenix W.

Want to learn more about Phoenix’s Build-A-Bear plush and label? Stay tuned for Season 5 of The Museum of Where We Are Podcast coming in winter/spring 2025!

Bamboo Bookshelf

HBlife on Amazon, 2024, wood, height: 13”

We typically buy objects based on their name and the purpose they are supposed to serve, but this does not always need to be the case. Consider my bamboo bookshelf. Mass-produced for dish drying, the wooden rack is now hung vertically on a wall where it serves as a home for some of my most prized possessions.

By transforming a dish rack into my bookshelf, I have created a place that celebrates function and individuality. Although my books are not what the object’s maker intended to fit between the flimsy pegs, I could not have hoped for a more ideal dwelling for them. The books slot in effortlessly, as if the rack was designed for this purpose. My creative repurposing has turned an ordinary object into something unique and personal, contributing to the warmth and character that makes my house feel like home.

Even before an object is made, it is given a name and purpose. We, as consumers, are expected to use the object accordingly. Yet, we should not let these titles dictate our creativity. Who is to say a dish rack needs to hold dishes? The name gives the object a set of rules. Why must we follow them? – Maggie H.

Crochet Hook Case

Lihao, Guangdong Province, China, circa 2010s, leather, aluminum, height: 7”

At first, my case was just a place to store my crochet hooks, but over time it became a partner in my creative process. I first realized this while working on a custom order for a Beauty and the Beast prince doll that could transform into the Beast and back. That project was my first time using a lot of different-sized hooks, and the case kept everything organized so I could focus on the intricate details. Even now, my case looks as clean and new as the day I got it, but it holds years of memories. It has traveled with me to every apartment and back home for visits, always keeping my crochet hooks ready for whatever I am working on. Now packed with more hooks than it can hold, my crochet hook case reminds me of where I started with crocheting and how far I have come with it. In a way, it has become as important to my crocheting as the hooks themselves. – Brianna P.

Nintendo DSi

Nintendo, Kyoto, Japan, 2009, plastic, metal, width: 5.39”

It is December 26th, 2010, and in my little eight-year-old hands I clutch my Christmas money and a hot pink Nintendo DSi. This console was the greatest source of joy for my childhood self, and for years I could not be caught without the device. I spent hours and hours playing games on my DSi—on the school bus, in the back of my mom’s car, under the blankets with my sister long past our bedtimes. I learned to animate on the DSi’s animation software, which sparked a love for the craft that has led me to pursue animation in college. Before getting a cell phone, my DSi was my gateway to the world, and it stars in many of my favorite childhood memories. These days, I do not use my DSi much anymore. I have better animation software and games on my computer, and my phone offers more social connection than the DSi could ever hope to provide. But every so often, I still crack open the console, feel the scuffed pink plastic under my fingertips, and relish in the sound of the DSi booting up, like the ringtone to my childhood. – Emara G.

Hammerhead Shark Plush

Adventure Aquarium, Camden, New Jersey, United States, polyester fiber, length: 11”

I did not realize what I had to lose until the shark was mine. My roommate Jodi bought a stuffed hammerhead in the gift shop on our trip to the aquarium months ago. But as they packed their bags to study abroad, the shark did not fit. Jodi asked me to watch over it until they return.

As I hug its soft fur, I am transported back to the aquarium. Jodi and I stand in front of a huge tank, watching the hammerhead inside swim in circles. Transfixed by the shark’s beauty, we took one home. Its beady eyes and friendly expression make me smile, much like the jokes Jodi and I made in front of the fish tank. The more I stroke its fur, I am filled with warm memories of our friendship. 

The shark is the only piece of Jodi left in our bare apartment. It spends its days with me in my room, like Jodi once did.  I know Jodi will come home one day, and I will return the toy to them. For now, I hold on to this shark to cherish our friendship until we can make new memories together. – Claire G.

Suzuki Omnichord OM-84

Suzuki Musical Instrument Corporation, Japan, circa 1982, plastic, rubber, electronics, metal, length: 20”

What does it mean to hold the future in your hands? For me, the Omnichord feels like a destined meeting between past and future. I stumbled across this instrument by accident, but it was as if it had been waiting for me all along. With its pear-shaped body and futuristic tones, it bridges my fascination for vintage treasures like vinyl and cassettes with a curiosity for what music could one day become.

The Omnichord feels alive. Its smooth, inviting shape rests comfortably in my lap, a conversation waiting to unfold. As my fingers glide across the strumplate, it responds with meditative, ethereal tones that quiet my thoughts and lift my spirit. Its simple chord buttons make it accessible to anyone, but its sounds inspire dreamers and tinkerers alike to imagine uncharted musical worlds.

More than an instrument, it is a dialogue between creativity and technology, a time capsule of innovation and wonder. It reminds me of a time when music was being reimagined, and now it sits in my hands, asking me to explore its possibilities. The Omnichord does not just make music—it invites me to dream, to create, and to celebrate the beauty of human touch. – Mathew C.

Juggling Balls

Renegade Juggling, Santa Cruz, California, United States, circa 2011, Suede leather & thread, height: 2”

Streaks of color cross my vision—up and down, back and forth. The repetitive motion creates a flow that fogs over my conscious mind. I let my body follow the predefined motions when, just as quickly as this trance started, a soft thud snaps me to attention. Letting out a breath, I will pick up the balls from the dirt and set them down for what could be the last time.

As a child, before these objects came into my possession, I struggled to master the skills it took to properly utilize them. I was jealous of the artistry displayed by my brother who effortlessly held these objects suspended in the air. For a long time, my failure in learning this art ate away at me. Every dropped ball was a slap in the face. Time and life pushed this insecurity to unused corners of my mind, but upon finding this set of juggling balls, once owned by my brother, old thoughts and insecurities rushed back. But I am older now—I have grown, and I have changed. When I drop a ball, I know how to pick it up, brush off the dirt, and start again. – Quinn W.

Chocopuni Big 40cm Plushie Shiroko

Good Smile Company, Tokyo, Japan, 2024, cotton and polyester, height: approximately 15.75”

“Your life matters. Don’t regret living. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be happy. Thinking the only way to end your suffering is through death is terrible. You weren’t born to suffer. And you shouldn’t.” This quote comes from the game Blue Archive and every time I see this plushie, it serves as a reminder to keep moving forward. The slice-of-life aspect of the game makes it easy to get attached to the characters as you spend time and bond with them. However, it is not all sunshine and rainbows in this world, and you will experience that with these characters. That quote about how life matters and to not regret living was stated directly to Shiroko. Because I ended up really liking her character and story, I bought this adorable plushie. The proportions of this plushie from the large head to the stubby limbs only amplify the urge to give it a big hug. Particularly, the softness of her hair and ears makes it very comfy to snuggle up to. Essentially, I get to end my day with a cute plushie that also serves as a reminder that there is always hope. – Adrian B.