It has been too long since I posted and I thought I might share a little of what I do at my "day job".
It's only a job in a retail store framing other peoples art and memorabilia. Heck it just barely pays the bills and doesn't buy me any nights on the town, but to me it's more than just a job.
I think it odd that we tend to give some jobs more respect than others when the fact is that the sewer workers' job is no less necessary than the Doctors', Lawyers' or Policemans'. Now before some one jumps up and says "but Doctors have to train for Years. . .", You're right. But without the sewer man disease would soon outpace the Doctors' ability to control it (LOL). All jobs are important to the whole. I think that respect for the job should be based more on how
well one does it than on
what one actually does. That being said there is also a great respect due for the commitment to learning and skill that certain jobs require, but that respect is and should be due the individual;
not the job itself. I've always also believed and was taught that any job can contain the elements of craftsmanship: A desire to do the best work one can do.
I currently have what some would call a menial and unnecessary job but I like to think of it in other terms. I perform a service. The service of taking peoples' memories and preserving them against time and sunlight as artfully as possible while staying within their budget. In these times that can be particularly challenging. It can also be very gratifying...
Take for example the woman who lost her best friend in a terrible fire.
Her best friend was her horse and she brought to the store everything that the fire had left her. My dept. manager was on the counter that day and being an animal lover, was moved almost to tears by the womans' story. When my manager later relayed the story to me, who had been given the job of making the shadowbox; I was similarly moved. I tried to honor her memories with the respect they deserved. They lost eighteen thoroughbred horses in the fire that day. She said that she was sifting thru the ashes at daybreak after the firefighters put out the fire . . . heartbroken.
In one short moment of time she'd lost her best friend and two other horses she had been training to follow in his hoof prints. Without a trace. Then she said she suddenly saw the tip of a horseshoe and began digging a little more. When she was done she had found two of his horseshoes and the charred brass nameplate from his stall door. She said it was a small miracle they hadn't melted in the fire. She took them home and found two pictures of their time together, then she found one of his award plaques and in her grief sat down and wrote a poem to her dead friend. It was some time before she brought them to us and asked if we could make a tribute shadowbox for her.
The horseshoes were covered in ashes and rust and she asked us to seal them
as they were , the brass name plate was also charred and some of the finish had bubbled up and blistered off, she had cleaned it herself enough to read the name and asked us to seal it also. She cried when she saw it finished and said that she would treasure it forever.
Then there was the man who paid a small fortune to have his Heroes' autographed jersey framed with pictures of the signing, framed in a simple black shadowbox (it was VERY large).
He'd waited all day to get them and paid a lot for the jersey. He said his hero had greeted him with the same warm handshake and friendly smile he'd given everyone else after 8 long hot hours of signing autograph after autograph. The customer said that it was worth every penny and every time he looks at it he'll remember the feeling of shaking his heroes' hand that day.
And the Mother who brought the symbols of her sons' achievements in to have framed and protected to give to him for his birthday. She said that playing baseball had given him lasting values about teamwork, personal effort, and never giving up; and she wanted to celebrate him with something that he loved.
This customer remembered that her grandfather while not rich was always dressed smartly, and elegantly. The silver watch (50 yrs), and brass key fob (25 yrs); were tokens of a job well done and are engraved with his initials, the two tie tacks, both set with his birthstone; a gift from his wife. He was never without them. All are mounted on black velveteen which the customer supplied because she said, he always wore a black velveteen vest at Christmas. To her these were the symbols of a good man and a loving husband.
When she looks upon these things she will always remember a soft spoken and dignified man who treated all those around him with respect, and loved her very much. I found it very fulfilling to help her create this design and was even able to put my meager jewelers skill to use as the tie tack in the close up had been broken all the way across on the right side and required some engineering to repair it unseen. It wouldn't stand up to wear but it looks unbroken. She was overjoyed and told me that it had been broken and the stone missing for many years because she couldn't afford to repair it.
She made my day....
Some may think "it's only a horse", or "it's only a game", etc., etc., but I think of all the things we humans have in common when I think of these things, the little ordinary everyday things, the milestones, the losses, and the causes for celebration. What means a great deal to one may seem foolish in anothers' eyes, but don't we all hold our own memories precious?
Others may think, "but they only pay you slave wages, why do you care?" What am I worth if I don't do my best, and what good is a job that
only feeds the body? I feel it a privilege every day to have the opportunity to share in something so intimate as another person's memories, and my honor to try and do justice to them. And I'm making art with whatever small talent God has given me. I won't die rich but I have a job that feeds my soul and let's me express my creativity. To me that is far greater than wealth.
I leave you with this thought: no human is insignificant who has touched the life of another.(I don't remember who said it first, but it's true) I consider it my goal to touch them for good, not for ill.
