WWI-Grandad's War
Seeds of History
Unlocking Memories
After her chores, she led me back down the hallway to the closet. With great effort, she pulled the chest into the hall.
Help me get this down to the sewing room,
She asked.
She pulled with both hands wrapped around a large leather handle on one end, while I pushed with all my might. I'm sure, I wasn't much help, but she made feel like I was. After a bit of a struggle, we manged to get the trunk into her sewing room. We both let go and gazed for moment at the old dusty chest that stood before us.
Wondering how she was going to get the trunk open, I offered up the rusty hammer that was sitting nearby. She took it and sat it aside. Like Houdini performing a great magic trick, she produced a rusty skeleton key out of thin-air. Another smile crossed her face, as she knelt in front of the trunk. She carefully inserted the key, then gave it a twist. The hasp of the lock sprung open with a loud click. My heart almost came out of my chest in anticipation, as to what lay inside.
Mother carefully opened the curved top of the chest. She tilted it backwards, until a small chain came taught, holding the lid open. A pungent smell filled my nostrils, making me wince. Mothballs,
mother informed me.
I stood at the edge of the chest, as she pulled off an old quilt that covered the contents. First to come out, was an old porcelain doll-'it's once brightly painted lips, cracked and faded with time. It was probably half as tall as I and was dressed in a flowing white lace dress,that had yellowed over the years. Holding it delicately, she fondly recalled her childhood. Tipping the dolls head forward, to admire it's once rich features, caused the dolls glass eyes to roll open, startling me! It's just a doll honey!,
She giggled, as she patted me on the back.
A host of other memories came out in turn. Old photo albums of her as a baby, a young girl, then a teenager. An old high school yearbook, pictures of family and friends, quilted blankets-hand sewn and given to her by favorite aunts. Some old cigar boxes, held trinkets and souvenirs sent to her by uncles who served in WWI, and brothers in WWII. Near the bottom of the chest, some odd shaped and brightly colored objects caught my eye. Some were green, some clear and some brown. Seeing I was intrigued, she brought one out of the chest and put it in the palm of my hand.
What is it momma?
I asked, as she lay the glass object in the palm of my hand.
They are insulators,
She informed me.
They are made of glass and were used to hold and insulate electrical wires on top of telephone poles.
I asked what they were doing in her chest. She went on to explain, that they belonged to her father-A Telegraph Lineman, who had worked for LA Power and Light for many years.
He brought them home for us kids to play with,
She said. Our toys.
Beside the stack of glass insulators was something wrapped in an old newspaper. Mother carefully removed the object, holding it in both hands. She carefully removed the paper, revealing a wood object with a wire on the back. Taking a corner of her apron, she wiped off the face of it.