"It's a family heirloom." -- Knitnan
Those four words, unfortunately, did not answer the question. It was old, Kelly could tell that much. It had been through much, if the uncleanable burn scars and dents were any indication. It plausibly had moving parts, but now they were mangled or rusted or fused shut. Whatever its original purpose was, it was now, effectively, a work of art.
"I get that it's old. I just wanted to know what it is. Or was. It looks like it had a function."
"Does it?" said Sam. She took it out of the glass-fronted display cabinet and turned it around and over. Looking at it as if contemplating that revelation. "Someone welded bits of it together..." She finally put it down in its original position. "I don't even know the story. It's just been passed down from generation to generation."
Two hundred years ago... An artist in the family found what was once a complicated device to make kitchen work easier in a time before electricity existed. It was long since defunct. The parts that weren't rusty were missing, and it had been through battles with gravity, fire, and what seemed to be a brief Mongol invasion. What it used to be was a mystery. What it was now was an heirloom. Passed down without knowing what it had been made for. He turned it into a work of art and, despite his best bafflegab, never could sell the blessed thing.
"What is it?"
"It's a family heirloom."
"I can see that, but what is it for?"
"Bless me if I know."
Generations upon generations prior, a poor immigrant woman despaired. She could only afford the meanest, toughest meats, and her little ones got exhausted in the chewing of it. She could stew it slowly, but there was only so many times a family could stand stew. They wanted something different. Salvation came in the form of roughly seventy percent of a Sears' Catalogue, and an advertisement for a hand-cranked mincing machine for the price of a nickel, plus postage and handling. For her, it was a sound investment. For her family, it was variety and salvation in one shiny, silver package. She made pies and pasties from cheap ingredients and herbs and spices that most never touched. She passed the recipes down to her daughters, who began the Humble Pie Company...
For each generation, it got passed down. Its importance was stressed, but its function was forgotten as newer and better devices were invented and purchased and used. But that never stopped it being an heirloom. It survived fires. It survived wars. It survived multiple impacts with hard surfaces.
Because it was an heirloom. It was kept. It was treasured. It was passed down. It was kept behind glass.
It was the first treasure that the family owned. And in a way, it was still a treasure. And in another way, it embodied both meanings of the word invaluable at once.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / inxti]
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