Jeana’s Journal

Among my favorite possessions are wooden boxes that were made for me and/or given to me by important people in my life. These boxes serve a variety of purposes. Some of them store useful things that I use often, others hold keepsakes, and, to be honest, sometimes the contents of a box may be junk that was conveniently stowed there, out of sight, to be dealt with another day. However, each of them holds one valuable thing in common, it is the memory of the time and the individual who gave it to me.

The first box I ever received was this wooden music box. My oldest brother had been away in the service for six months. It was the first time that our family was not all together under one roof. When he returned, he brought a gift for each of us. To my ten-year-old eyes, my musical jewelry box was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I had never imagined ever owning such a treasure. Over the years, I kept my favorite things inside of it, from my first birthstone ring to a special high school graduation necklace and on to my sorority pin. The paint is chipped and peeling now, but the dancers still twirl and the music still plays and whenever I open it, that day of my youth returns in a brief flash of emotion.

This handmade cedar box made was made for me by my second brother. During his senior year of high school he made at least three of these boxes. My mother got the first one, my older sister received the second, and I became the lucky owner of the last box. I say lucky, because in comparing the chests all of these years later, it is clear that his construction techniques improved with practice, and mine was the last. During it’s lifetime it has held hankerchiefs, letters, and other valuable items, but the fragrance of cedar, approximately 40 years later, is still it’s best content.

I did not receive another box until 1996. This date is correct because it and my initials are carved inside this amazing green milk-painted sewing box. It was hand carved and hand made for me by Patrick Roche, husband of my long time and very dear friend Judy Roche. You probably recognize Judy from reading her name on the selvages of reproduction fabric you have purchased. She is an astute and long-time collector of antique quilts. It was through quilting that I met her when she generously offered to let me illustrate my Red and Green book with several of her quilts. We quickly became friends and over the years we have had many memorable quilting adventures together. Pat, her husband, began woodworking in the 1990’s and I feel most fortunate to have been gifted with one of his early works. This box will always hold a place of honor in my heart and in my home.

This last set of boxes I received just last year at Christmastime. They were made by D. Potter. D.’s wife, Mary, and my mother were best friends. When my husband and I moved into Mom’s house to care for Mom during her final illness, Mary was the source of my best support and strength. Whenever I needed a break, Mary was there with a smile and a hug. During those months Mary and D. became our friends too. When Mom died it was as though a little of her was left behind in the friendship that Mary and I came to share. When I visited the Potters last December, they gave me these beautiful boxes made from alder that D. had recently made. Their son is a cabinetmaker and D. cannot bear to see good wood go to waste. He gathers up the hardwood scraps from the cabinet shop, that is located on their property, and he makes useful things that he freely gives to family and friends. The top box holds my camera, it’s instruction book, and various cords. It is the perfect size. The second box is still empty. I am still looking for something worthy to be stored inside.

As I have accumulate possessions over the years it seems that many of them, just like my wooden boxes, are treasures. It is not an item’s monetary value that makes it valuable, it is the people, places and different phases of my life that they represent.