Thursday 28 February 2013

Sepia Saturday 166



This week's theme is very handy for my Tales from the Shoebox.  Glendower's Bard appears immediately before this contribution to Saturday Sepia, and it is hoped to make this a regular feature between SS postings.  This piece is concluded with a tale from the other shoebox, the difference between the boxes being that the other one actually contains tales relating to real events suitably embellished to lift the participants to heroic status.
Box Making, ancient yet modern craft or manufacturing process, creating valuable artwork or cheap utilitarian container.  They come in all shapes and sizes and can be made of many materials from gold to wood or plain paper.  The common factor is that they are designed to hold something; sometimes securely and sometimes just in one place.  They can hold the smallest thing, the most precious and valueless and in the finality, us as we pass from being to our final destination in the cold earth or the fire.

Shaker Box Maker using traditional methods


A modern box making machine


Box maker in Ghana making boxes to suit the whims of the departed on the route to the exit


Off the Shelf 


Perhaps as Art

A Tale from the Other Shoe Box

Getting on to coffins reminded me of a story of when I was a youngster, or was it the story that led me the Box of the inevitable end.  This story, I'm afraid, does not have any pictures, but it did actually happen.

I was out one evening with some mates, we were about 14 or 15, and as it was dark it must have been in the late Autumn or Winter.  Just for amusement we decided to play Knock Down Ginger, a game where you knock on someone's door and hide so they can't see you.  We chose the door of another mate, his father was a little Connemara man, an ex jockey, barely five foot two.  Up the passageway knock knock, back out the gate and down the road we ran,  we were half way down the road by the time he reached the gate.  I've never known a man with short legs, and in stocking feet, run so fast.  At the end of the road he was close behind, his socks hanging nine inches over the end of his toes. Two of us veered left and the other shot to the right, little John followed the horde.  Not knowing this we jumped over the wall of the house at the end of the road and into the garage to hide.  The house was that of the undertaker, and we found ourselves amongst the coffins.  I don't think any were occupied, but we didn't look.  My poor old mate had had a traditional Irish Catholic upbringing, and was shaking with fear.  He had his rosary  in his hand and was chanting gibberishly.  I was glad of my Chapel  raising for fear of the after life, in spite of the Hell Fire sermons of a German pastor, was not a feature.

My poor mate got some stick.  My big mouth inadvertently let out the story of his necklace (as the rosary became in the telling)  and that took some living down.






25 comments:

  1. I thought the Ghana one looked more like a car than a box. Apparently, it is a coffin shaped like a car.

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    1. Yes that's right. They're made in any manner of shapes to suit that particular individual. Ours' would be, perhaps, a camera or PC, or a lap top.

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  2. I like the interplay between your Sepia Saturday posts and your Tales From The Shoebox posts (I have just been back and read the last one). Great treatment of this theme, box can have so many interpretations can't it.

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  3. When the mind is force to concentrate on the specific and then ;et free to run, it is surprising where it will go. Glad you like it.

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  4. I looked at the Shaker box maker when looking for sometning for this week's theme. The mind boggles at a coffin shaped like a laptop top - it would be too thin for the likes of me.

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  5. Diamonds and dead people all in a box - now there's a thought I hadn't anticipated for this week. I love the coffin story. I'll tell you mine. In preparation for our mother's impending death, my sister and I made funeral arrangements in advance. We were taken into the "showroom" and left alone to browse. There was a long silence as we strolled from coffin to coffin, trying to find which one Momma would "like." Finally my sister said, "Well, I know what I'd pick for you." I'm sure it's never good to laugh in the coffin room.









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    1. I'm all for a woodland burial in a cardboard box or a wicker basket. I don't need a Head Stone or a Marker. If I've lived life properly, they'll still be saying I knew of this good old boy that my granddad told me about.......

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  6. It's funny but we had a car made out of cardboard for the children to color, and the next hear we got a playhouse- but to be buried in one- even out of wood...hmmm! Great post- your pictures are so interesting and nicely matched!

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    1. I don't think you'd worry too much when your gone. Just trust those left behind to do the right thing

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  7. That was a story worth re-telling, never mind the lack of an appropriate sepia photo. Actually, I kind of had the flavour from the last image anyway. Of course now I'm looking forward to an appropriate image for Wendy's coffin tale.

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    1. Yes I know what you mean, but she's so sweet I don't want her to go just yet.

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  8. A clever spin on the theme, Mike. As a woodworker, box making is a skill I occasionally still use, but only for fancy storage, as lately I've succumbed to cheap plastic shoe boxes for most of my container needs. They don't offer such good stories though.

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    1. Yes you are right. The plastic box is difficult to beat as an object of utility, but as an object of beauty.........

      As a Hobby Turner and woodcarver, I make small boxes (3 or 4 centimetres up to 15 or so)the smaller ones don't hold much but they are large enough to store dreams. My carpentry skill are not great but I can knock together boxes for the garden and the odd toy box for the grandkids, but they are only made of board and are not jointed. (I will try one day to do some Dove Joints)

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  9. Didn't think I'd be reading about rosaries in this theme :) Love the first photo - he has a lovely face and seems to be proud of his work.

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    1. Yes almost serene contentment, that only seems to come (if at all) to people of a certain age.

      The rosary, an essential ingredient of the story.

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  10. I did wonder about your mate bringing a rosary to play Knock Down Ginger? Ok, it was a necklace :) but it sounded like it came in handy for him.

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  11. I think his Mum had trained him to take it with him (for protection?)perhaps like the Liberty Bodice

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  12. I've seen some of those wild caskets they make in Ghana and keep thinking about what I'd like, maybe something that looked like a book? Or bookshelves? Or a cat? Can't decide.

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  13. Enjoyed the photos - especially the car coffin - and the great story.

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  14. What an enjoyable post. When I was considering coffins for HH and I, had planned on a plain pine box from the Abbey of Gethsemani near us but we decided to go with the cremation. Guess cremation urns will soon have stories attached to them. I can remember finding an old horse drawn hearse in a garage in our home town when we were little and rambled around the neighborhoods getting into things. Love that first photo.
    QMM

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  15. I did Knock&Run in Halifax,as a lad! Splendid Fun!Mind you, I never 'did' an undertaker ! We had a 'Home For Unmarried Mothers'near our house....I would love to tell you we knocked -Up their door.........but we didn't,mores the pity!

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  16. Yes we had one too, I think most towns had them but not for local girls. When I was told about them it was in hushed tone

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  17. The two men gazing at the modern machine is funny, I suspect the man with the pencil behind his ear may prefer the hands on approach to box making.

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