I saw my doppelganger at the antique market. Not really, I just said that. But in a way I do see things that remind me of myself. I see some things that I owned or that where common objects from my past. The memorable past Henry James called it. It is your own past and two generations again.

That would be your parents and grandparents lives. So if a generation is 30 years, give or take, most of us have a reach of ninety years into the past. For example I was never in a house that used an icebox but I certainly know what one is. My mother has told us the story about the hot summer day the ice man carried his heavy load to the third floor. The local boys used his absence to torment his horse. Sometimes heavy men can move with alarming speed. One unluckly boy was soon head locked between a pair of ice tongs.

When I see ice tongs at a flea market in a barn, I remember that story. It has become my memory. What a formidable weapon are ice tongs. If that man choose to he could have easily pierced that boys skull instead of just putting a scare into him. I see all this despite the fact that I wasn't even born when it happened.

My grandparents lived next door to us. Although they where very Americanized, they had emigrated from Belgium. So naturally there where foreign things in their home. Like the two wine casks in the basement. Hugh. Something from a French winery. And the statue of Manekin Pis, the little boy holding his wang, bare ass. The cemented up coal chute. None of these things are from my life experience but none-the-less they are a known things to me.

As we stroll the antique markets we often encounter such things, such memories. It is this connection that makes an item valuable. Something to repossess. Top hats, wide ties, auto tires with whitewalls that are 5" wide. Not ours but of our memorable past. I think this is what brings us to these places. If we could just take them home it would be an act of preservation. And comfort.