Embrace the Things That Speak to the Spirit

You Can’t Save Everything, So Choose Those That Connect in Special Ways

By Peter Landry

It’s often said that we’re not defined by our things, but by our spirit. But things can have special value if they connect with the spirit of people, places and traditions that we love.

On a recent visit with our grandson, our daughter went down in our basement to look for childhood toys that would be suitable for a boy just over 2.

As she was looking around, my wife pointed out things we weren’t using and asked if she wanted any. “I would like THAT,” our daughter said when she saw one item. “I have always loved it.”

Later, when our grandson was looking around, his eyes landed on the same item. “I WANT THAT!” he said with authority. And what was THAT?

It was a curiosity of an object, a commonplace item that got new life after its usefulness was done. An item that connected with family and tradition, friendships and community, history and art. An item that with a bit of whimsy and a dash of art had unexpectedly become a family heirloom and a touchstone to the past.

The item in question was an insulated milk box that had sat on my mother’s Maine doorstep for years and years back when H.P. Hood & Sons delivered door to door.

But it had been transformed after the deliveries stopped by my mother’s quirky sensibility and the vision of a friend and artist.

The artist, a teacher named Jane Anderson, had decorated each side and the cover of the aluminum gray box with fanciful and colorful scenes of the village where my mother lived.

The color was what attracted the attention of our grandson. The scenes were what got our daughter.

Painted in a folk art style, they chronicled the landmarks and places of little Cape Porpoise that were dear to my daughter from childhood visits — and dear to my mother in a life of more than 90 years.

On the top cover was Cape Porpoise Harbor, Goat Island Lighthouse and the working fishing pier where my Mom befriended both fishermen and rum runners as a pre-teen during Prohibition. On the shore were an anchor, the lobster trap Christmas tree the village erects each year and, of course, one of my mother’s many cats, a big black beauty named Midnight.

On the front side of the box, Jane depicted things that were special to my mother’s house: the unusual carved overhang on the side door, the climbing rosebush that grew next to it, a side garden of yellow marigolds and blue delphinium, Bob O’Reilly’s ancient truck and lobster pound from across the street, and five more cats, including the “noble beast” Greylocks and the literary E.B. White.

On the right side panel were local landmarks: the Church on the Cape my mom attended, the Atlantic Hall and Library, where she led story hours in retirement, the Wayfarer restaurant, where she was a breakfast regular, and Bradbury Brothers market, an institution and lifeline in the village for generations.

The left side panel, was a mix of personal and public pkaces: The Fish House my grandfather built on Paddy Creek (with a fireplace built by my father), the famous Nunan’s Lobster Hut two doors up on her street and the Main Street home she grew up in as a girl. And of course, two more cats, including the famously rotund Bobbinette, who had no tail.

The rear panel wrapped things up by paying tribute to the company that inspired this art and history project. Jane highlighted in white the raised, metal message “Property of H.P. Hood & Sons, Inc. 1948-1995.” She framed it with beautiful evergreen trees on the sides, added a fresh coating of snow and, yes, inserted two more cats, including the notorious Molly the Snit.

Though my mother tried her best, it’s unrealistic to think that people will save every thing they loved and enjoyed in the past. Lives change, people move, and, frankly, there is a limit to storage space.

We all have to make choices, sorting possessions into things we can use, things we can’t and things that have special spirit or meaning.

It is gratifying my daughter loved her Grammy’s milk box as a child and wanted to have it as an adult. And it is hopeful that her son may want to keep it himself some day.

Everyone should embrace things that connect with the people and places we love. In a world of change, it’s good to have touchstones with our roots, even if they come from the milk man.

This old-school painted milk box isn’t a thing of great cash value in the grand scheme of things. But in its way, it is priceless.

TOP PHOTO: The front panel showing things special to my mother’s house. BELOW: The fanciful, colorful style of artist Jane Anderson. BOTTOM: The heirloom box in its new home.