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Something else to file under garage sales: the woman who accidentally sold the ashes of her husband’s first wife. The turtle jar that housed the remains was purchased for fifty cents by a woman who thought it would make an excellent cookie container. The woman who sold it claimed that its urn status was obscured by the fact that they collected many turtle-themed objects. The ashes were eventually retrieved.
Overall, I think that makes a pretty sad garage sale. Objects that are ripped from their context have always struck me as sad, but I think I know where I learned to have this kind of anthropomorphic empathy: Owl at Home, by Arnold Lobel. Have any of you read this book? Lobel is the creator of the Frog and Toad series, which readied me for devouring Edward Gorey in my double digits. In Owl at Home, Owl sets out to brew a pot of “tear-water tea”–and, naturally, in order to do so he must imagine and then dwell upon the saddest objects possible. Thankfully (to a young psyche), they’re not really that sad–mainly in that they don’t involve tragedies befalling humans–but they are pretty pathetic: a spoon that has fallen behind a stove and will never be found, pencils that are too short to use, a page of music no one can read, etc. So my question to you (be it indulgent, perhaps juvenile) is this: let’s say you were given the task of making such a tea; what would be the saddest object you could conjure?
I always feel sorry for all the stuffed animals that none of my kids ever loved. Some were gifts, some hand-me-downs from older cousins — but for whatever reasons, they never got hugged, sucked, dragged around, or cuddled in bed.
posted by Karen on 9-27-2007 at 6:49 am
I, too, have stuffed animal empathy. I think it comes from having read The Velveteen Rabbit one too many times.
posted by Amanda on 9-27-2007 at 7:14 am
I always feel guilty when I get a gift I won’t use. I don’t return most gifts (clothing that doesn’t fit being an exception) I remember when I was young my parents bought me a very expensive present that I had no desire for, I used it out of guilt, still happens to this day.
posted by Witty Nickname on 9-27-2007 at 8:12 am
My mom used to laugh at me, because before we went on a long vacation, I’d carefully line up all my stuffed animals (at least the ones that couldn’t come with me) comfortably on my bed, facing the door, so they’d be waiting for me when I got back.
I honestly thing some of the saddest objects are those that were well-used by their owner who has since passed away. Things like my grandpa’s shoe horn, my grandma’s hair brush, my great aunt’s art kit just seem so poignant now, sitting alone and unused. Fortunately, there’s always hope - at least for the last of my examples, I’ve inherited the art kit and use it myself. It’s good to know that even sad objects can find happiness in a purpose again.
posted by Katherine on 9-27-2007 at 8:46 am
I alway feel sad when I see an old house in the country-side that’s falling in on itself and over-grown with weeds, the paint worn off to the raw wood. Who used to live there? How many families laughed or cried, rejoiced or fought? Who was the last to walk out the door and why did no one ever move in again?
posted by Pam on 9-27-2007 at 9:32 am
Oh my. I thought I was the only one! Like Pam, I think about old forgotten objects in the context of who used and loved them. Old houses are the worst. I see rusty old cars getting hauled off to the junkyard and I think, “That was once someone’s pride and joy, someone bought that car brand new. Now it means nothing to anyone but for scrap metal.” Aww. :(
posted by A.L.S. on 9-27-2007 at 9:54 am
Unread books. The first time I lost a library book was in third grade. After a month of being lost, the librarian in all of her wisdom compiled a list of all of the grossly overdue books and made a construction-paper image of each one, with a frowning face and tears, headed by the title “Where am I?”. At the time I was devastated by the display, and could hear the book crying in our house until I eventually found it; to this day if I lose a book somewhere in my apartment I still feel a tinge of sadness for that lost book.
posted by Leadhyena on 9-27-2007 at 10:52 am
Gah! You guys are gonna make me cry! ;)
I too have a thing about stuffed animals. Broken ones especially. Generally any kind of broken toy hurts me. Especially watching someone BREAK a toy–that makes me hurt.
This thread reminds me of a musical number from one of my favorite animated movies: “Worthless,” from The Brave Little Toaster. It’s about cars in a junkyard–did nothing to me as a child, but now is makes me tear up.
posted by Freezair on 9-27-2007 at 12:32 pm
i’m with everyone on the stuffed animals
also: objects lying on the side of the road or on the beach - toys, shoes, jewely, etc. there’s absolutely no way for them to be found
posted by sd on 9-27-2007 at 12:42 pm
I’m always sad when part of a set is missing or broken. I accidentally broke a piece of my mom’s china while washing it and we saved it at the top of the cabinet for putting water in when we paint or do crafts. It still makes me sad and a bit guilty to see it.
posted by Farfalla on 9-27-2007 at 2:15 pm
Thanksgiving dinner without that can-shaped cylinder of cranberry sauce. For me, no fresh cranberry/orange/walnut garnish recipe can ever replace the childhood memories of slicing off a disc of cranberry sauce and sliding it onto my already overstuffed plate. It tastes like home.
posted by Ken on 9-27-2007 at 2:26 pm
My wife and I love “Owl at Home”, and we use the “Tear-Water Tea” reference with each other when feeling sorry for ourselves.
To add to this thread, I sighted a very sad object indeed: I was driving past a picnic shelter at a local park around dusk, and there was a cake with a plastic cover over it sitting alone on a picnic table. The park was deserted as far as people go–just a lonely cake with no one to enjoy it. Perhaps it was for a party that didn’t pan out, or maybe no one liked that flavor…but it made me sad for it.
posted by Minnesotan on 9-27-2007 at 3:47 pm
Broken CDs and old scratched-up vinyl. No-one will ever be able to listen to it again…
posted by Kitty on 9-27-2007 at 6:03 pm
Abandoned amusement parks. These are so sad because you can see how fun they once were, and what they’ve become. Theres one in glen echo maryland for any dc natives. That park is so depressing it’s not even funny.
posted by matt on 9-27-2007 at 9:24 pm
In my opinion, nothing so far compares to the “spoon fallen behind the oven” in the original.
Some potential comparisons:
- Monogrammed and unused leather-bound hand-made diary from Florence, Italy (obviously I have one).
- Unopened bottle of champagne that has spoiled before it could be used. (C’mon… even a TUESDAY is worth a celebration before you let a good beverage spoil)
- 538 votes for Al Gore fallen behind a voting machine discovered by a janitor in Florida, Jan 21, 2001.
posted by David on 9-27-2007 at 10:06 pm
When I see old houses and cars like Pam and A.L.S. mentioned, I think about how someone was the first to walk through the doors of their brand new, modern home. Once upon a time someone drove that Desoto or Studebaker home from the car dealer and parked it in their drive way so their neighbors could see their brand new, shiny car.
The amusement park from my childhood closed. Teenagers (they think) were sneaking in and torching the buildings, then the big roller coaster caught fire. The newspaper said that a group of people stood together and sang “Auld Lang Syne” as the flames lit up the sky.
posted by Tdave on 9-28-2007 at 1:06 am
Reminds me of that Tom Waits song, “House where nobody lives”
There’s a house on my block
That’s abandoned and cold
Folks moved out of it a
Long time ago
And they took all their things
And they never came back
Looks like it’s haunted
With the windows all cracked
And everyone call it
The house, the house where
Nobody lives
posted by AmyR. on 10-8-2007 at 3:06 pm