Yesterday it finally happened. Something I’d worried about for years, but knew would eventually come to pass.
I accidentally dropped my beloved mug on our hard tile floor in the hallway, and it smashed into pieces.
Lots of people have favorite mugs for coffee or tea. Nothing new there.
The reason that this one was my favorite was that I’d purchased it on a trip to Alaska in May 2001. I’d joined two of my friends on a quick side-trip to Seward, south of Anchorage, on our day off.
We wandered around this small town nestled amid snow-capped mountains covered with pine trees. The nearby marina was full of sailboats and fishing vessels. Surrounded by such extraordinary natural beauty, Seward itself cannot really be considered quaint; instead, it is hardy and dependable.
It was on a slightly dusty shelf at one of the tourist gift shops on the main street that I found it. It was a simple, rounded, oversized coffee mug, blue on the outside and the color of cafe au lait on the inside. A moose and pine tree were hand-painted on the front; ‘Alaska’ was painted in a casual font on the back.
I know how it may sound, but it was neither tacky nor kitschy. It was just the right size, shape, color, pattern. More importantly, it wasn’t mass-produced. It was unique, the only one of its kind.
At the time we were on a regional trip to Alaska as part of our nine-month development program with the US State Department. The program was wrapping up in a few weeks, and I would return to a new job in the Pentagon at the beginning of June.
I bought the mug knowing it would make a nice reminder of what had been both a personally and professionally fulfilling year. I could see myself drinking my morning coffee out of it, looking back on fond memories of the interesting things I’d learned and done, and reminiscing about the great friendships I’d made.
In a sense, this mug would be a marker between my prior working life before the course and the new one that awaited me. Little did I know that in a few short months, on September 11th, it would come to represent all of that and more on a much grander scale.
Before….and after.
Over the years I’ve sipped many a cup of coffee (and the occasional tea) from that mug. It was mine and mine alone. No one else in the family dared touch it, and it was never offered to visitors. Ever.
In time it became an anchor, linking the life I’d had before that fateful day and the one that developed since. It was not a sad reminder. I did not look at it and think only of those whose lives had been tragically cut short. There was no need for a visual reminder anyway as those thoughts have never been far from my mind.
Rather, it was reassuring. I would look at that mug and be reminded of how I had lived my life: the ways in which it had changed, the many turns it had taken in the intervening years.
Freud and Jung would probably have a field day psychoanalyzing how I dropped it on September 12, 2011, the day after the ten year anniversary. But I know that it was nothing more than my attempting to carry one thing too many. It teetered unbalanced, and fell. My luck had simply ran out.
As I stood over the broken shards, I held my breath.
I’m not sure why, but I probably was expecting to feel a wave of emotion wash over me. When one didn’t, I was surprised.
After a few seconds I cursed softly and exhaled. I continued to stare at the fragments for another minute, then leaned down to sweep them up.
Somewhere along the way I’d learned that my mug was just a thing. It meant something to me, and I’m sorry it’s gone, but in the end, it’s just a thing. Things can be replaced.
It didn’t house my memories. I still have them.
I don’t need it to remind me of all that it represented.
I needn’t fear that without it, I’ll forget. Not a chance.
I love this post. For so many of us memories and emotions are tied to things, not as a reminder but as a touchstone. Something tangible to hold to connect with our thoughts.
Then we lose or break those touchstones and realise connections can never be lost because our heart holds them, quietly and without us realising.
I’m sorry you broke your mug, but glad there has been a coming to terms, an emotional understanding of self. This was a unique and deeply touching way to remember 9/11.
Thank you dear. Wise words indeed from someone who’s experienced overwhelming loss with Hurricane Katrina. We are taught that material things aren’t important, but there are still items that we invest with special meaning (a grandmother’s ring, a favorite picture, a coffee mug). I’ll keep my eyes open for just the right new mug. It will never be the same, but it can take on its own significance at this turning point.
inda, lovely piece. Yes, the contents of our lives are not in the material but in the consciousness of our living memories. Loved the post.xx
True Niamh. We know this, and yet we still cherish certain items above others, don’t we? Thank you
Sorry, about the misspelling of Linda – my rheuma is acting up in this weather – the keys stick a lot with my fingers…xxx
You never need to apologize, Niamh!
Maybe it’s time to buy a new mug to represent a new chapter in your life as a writer?
I think so, Kym. As I mentioned to Wordgeyser, I’ll look for just the right one. I’ll know it when I see it. It may end up just being a coffee mug, or it may signal the ‘next chapter’ (poor pun intended).
When we moved to Turkey we only brought over personal things, things that had been given to us down the years from people we care about. None of it was valuable in monetary terms. In fact the cost of the air freight was probably more than the value of the items. No matter, they are priceless to us. I love the idea of buying a new mug to signify a new beginning and express faith in the future.
Me, too. I’ll have to keep my eyes open for just the right one. Thanks Jack
Beautiful post Linda, I can relate to your experience of what happened to your favourite mug. Enjoy finding your new one!
Thanks Carrie. Let the search begin…
A thought provoking post. I have to agree with Wordgeyser, who put it better than I could have done. Certain “things” do become touchstones – a physical link to our subconscious archives, valued because they represent the key to those archives and we always fear losing the key and being unable to access or locate them again in the labyrinthine recesses of our minds.
I suppose, in reality, memories stay poignant until we no longer need them to be. But they never leave us. It only takes a fragrance, a certain light, a movement, to evoke them out of the blue, just as fresh as they ever were.
Thanks for the thoughts. And sorry about your mug.
Thanks Aisha, I appreciate it. And I think you said it well yourself! I really like the concept of ‘subconscious archives’. Isn’t it amazing how the smallest details (snippet of a song, a certain food, some word or phrase, or as you mentioned, a fragrance) can transport us back in time and we’re there.
Such a lovely post. I too have a favourite mug, given to me my one of the children from a class I taught back in 2001. I still remember the paper it was wrapped in. Every one always comments on its size as it is quite tall but perfect for a long cup of tea! Thank you Elena! I hope you find another mug that could possibly replace the broken one.
Thank you, it will be an interesting seach to find something that feels ‘just right’. Being a teacher you probably have several presents from your students that have meant so much. How nice that you can even picture the wrapping paper!
I somehow missed this post last week and now, after my own blog post on ‘stuff’, it’s fascinating to read. Another thing, another item, but with so much meaning and significance, yet it is only stuff at the end of the day.
Here’s the thing. I’ve realised I am a closet mug collector. I have Vancouver mugs, Ottawa mugs, RCMP mugs, mugs from Sydney and London and NY. Mugs celebrating English sports teams, milestone birthdays, and favourite vacations. I am a mug fiend like yourself but mine are most definitely kitsch and with no deep meaning. And I never really thought about it until I read your post today.
Time to cleanse and de-clutter… mugs, where are you?!!
Great post as always, Linda 🙂
Thanks Russell. Sounds as though you enjoy having a cuppa from a mug that reminds you of a time or place, too.
I’ve been using different mugs each day, giving far more thought to their size/shape/colors than a person really should. Right now I’m drinking koffie out of a Brixton Pottery mug from a set a dear friend (who had lived in London for 3 years) gave us for a wedding present some, ahem, 22 years ago. (I was just a lass at the time; my story and I’m sticking to it!)
Well, congrats on the 22 years at the very least! Quite the accomplishment.