Yesterday I found two things: First, a fine old ten-speed bike in good shape, gently leaned against a dumpster. Clearly not stolen or for trash. My first instinct as a bike person was to wheel it home or to the community bike shop, but on consideration, I left it there. It was Christmas Eve day, someone would surely find it and maybe would love it. A gift, left to be found. A half-hour later the bike was gone.
The next thing I found was this little Holy Bible, Teachers Edition. In a ziplock bag, on the grass by the sidewalk on Charles Street. Not a fancy thing but clearly well cared for, fake red leather covers and inside in elegant fountain script: To Miss Liddle, from the Members of her Sabbath Evening Class. Glasgow 1/10/78. Later in thick pencil Miss Liddle, having married and moved across the ocean, wrote “Nee” above the inscription in thick grey pencil and corrected the inscription to read: Mrs. Chas Thompson, 245 Carlton St, Toronto. I wrote a note, “Old Bible found here”, and put it in the ziploc bag, leaned against the tree where I found it, thinking Mrs Chas might come looking for it. This morning the Bible in it’s baggie is still under the tree.
Lost things, found things. Ephemera, treasures and dust.
Afternoon update: the Bible is gone. Merry Christmas, Mrs Chas Thompson.
What wonderful finds , yes I also make a point of picking stuff up off the road , a few weeks ago I saw a folded map of southern England lying there all lost and wet , but fortunately it was the fabric kind . So I took it home , dried it out and mounted it on a board . It’s an RAC royal automobile club edition from the thirties, so no motorways and the major roads were less developed. It now lives on the wall up the stairs with its own light and magnifying glass
My best find was one day I was walking up the Drive, it was just starting to rain, and I saw a small cloth bag on the street near the bus stop — still dry, so obviously had just been dropped. Inside was some a partially completed knitting piece, in red wool. I took it home with me knowing someone would be so bummed by having lost their knitting. This was before I had really learned how to knit, but after a few days I figured what the heck so I started knitting away at it, freestyle, not knowing what it was supposed to be. I told a friend about it and he said, that belongs to my friend Jane– she wrote about it on her Live Journal! (early blogging platform). I looked it up and sure enough, she had written about how she dropped the bag while getting on the bus. I remember she wrote, “someone must have seen me drop it, but no one said anything — people are shits.” I immediately messaged her to let her know I’d found her knitting. We met up, and she gave me a sparkly purple scarf with a small heart in it, which she had knitted just for me. It turned out that the misshapen object in the bag was intended to be a hat for SantaCon — an annual event where thousands of Santas in lewd and ratty Santa suits march drunkenly through the streets. She was totally thrilled that I had “messed up” her intentionally crappy hat, and just kept on knitting the hat in the insolent spirit intended. And than she conceded that in fact, people are not shits.
What a lovely ending , everything is a lesson it’s it ? But finding stuff on the road sort of makes loosing things less painful. In my pot days , that’s the stuff you inhale not sit on , I wandered into the local laundromat, this was in the sixties on Venice Beach Ca. and there lying on the floor was a $5 bill so I pinned it to the notice board , naturally it was gone before my wash cycle had finished. What must I have be thinking ? Ah yes these were Peace and Love days , dream on Man