Thinking about the objects and stories that shape us

My grandfather's experience as a prisoner of war

Note: This essay describes conditions in a German prison camp during WWII.

As a design historian, I'm as interested in the stories objects carry as I am in their form and quality. Sometimes, these stories are about beauty or utility, but often, they speak to more profound truths. As my youngest son turned seven this week, I've been thinking particularly about the stories we inherit. I have what my kids call my 'treasure chest' - filled with mementos and memories: a matchbook from my great-grandmother's house, a token from a carousel in Paris, a rock I've carried since I first found it in a spring runoff creek in the hills behind my childhood home in Vermont. And tucked away in a corner of the box is my grandfather's battered compass.

This morning, the house was filled with what my son calls his 'bird whistles' - a newly acquired skill that makes our home sound like a menagerie. I'm equal parts charmed and annoyed by this constant soundtrack. Earlier, he clambered into my lap, and his wa…