Good question! Why would I keep this old can around anyway? At first glance this object appears to be just an old, metal, slightly rusty, ordinary tin can containing buttons. I imagine to anyone else but me the can is not worthy of a second glance unless you are very curious and wonder what it contains. However, each and every time I take the lid off, the nostalgic aroma transports me right back to my grandmother's kitchen at 764 Avenue D. These aren't kitchen kinds of smells but instead the smells of the red and white gingham oilcloth covering the massive oak table which sat prominently in the middle of the kitchen, the smell of wax bits used to strengthen thread before inserting into a needle, the oil-like smell of the old singer treadle sewing machine, and lastly - the smell of my history.
Every once in a while when I want to feel connected, I take the lid off my button can and dump out some of the contents. These buttons came from clothing worn by my family, a family that is no longer of this world. Yet when I see the buttons somehow I am connected to them again and remember some of the clothes that they wore just by seeing familiar buttons. One round brown leather car-coat button came from my father's camel colored wool coat. Running my fingers over the rough texture of that button and seeing him in that coat brings him close again.
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