We moved into our Pennsylvania house when our boys were four and six, so I marked their heights on the trim of their closet on their birthdays. Both of them soared to 6’+ by the time they left for college, so there were a lot of marks—including when they eclipsed my 5’11”. When we were a few days from leaving that house to move west, I had a panic moment: We couldn’t leave that height record behind! So I called a carpenter who carefully cut out that strip of wood and replaced it, caulking over the gaps and repainting. The new owners never complained, and the scrap made its way into our new home in Colorado. Whew. Graffito history preserved!
Oh Peter, what an absolutely fantastic thing you did there! I can only imagine that awful feeling in the pit of your stomach that you would have had if you’d left that amazing family record behind. Reading this has made my day - that’s terrific! 🙌
I love your philosophy here, Rebecca. Seeing graffiti in the positive light, as recordings for the consideration of future generations, rather than malicious effacement. If only all of us could look for the good ( in everything) rather than constantly lamenting the bad! Life would be so much more enjoyable. Not an easy thing to do, I fear. Good for you!
It’s an uncomfortable thing, isn’t it? To hate that people feel the need to make their mark in such a way, but to be deeply fascinated years on about who those people were and what the context had been behind those marks. Bit of a paradox.
LOVED this, Rebecca! And I won't think less of you if you steal off under cover of darkness to scratch a new R.W.H. into a nearby surface. Just not a tree!
I've had an appreciation for graffiti for a very long time, despite the logical side of my brain understanding that it defaces private property. I suppose I take issue, at times, with how certain kinds of private property exclude rather than include, and in that way I don't blame those who want to find ways to reclaim it. Just not on trees!
Oh, it’s extraordinary what some people do, isn’t it? The very next morning after I’d published this post - so, last Sunday - we went out for a walk somewhere I hadn’t been before (Jim’s photographing woodlands for his latest book project, and I sometimes get to tag along) and I came across a tree which had had initials carved into it at a much earlier stage of its life. The letters had stretched only sideways, not upwards, as the girth of the trunk had increased at a greater rate than its height. I felt rather pleased that the tree had fought back to ruin the look of what had been carved into its bark. Take THAT, graffiti!
I loved your examples of the yawp in the wilderness that humans are urged to record in any way and on any surface possible. Indulge me, Rebecca, I can't resist sharing a post about this subject last year or so. Everywhere you go, even in the hinterlands, the taverns, and highways, you can find the marks of those who came before. Hope you get a kick out of this. Heck, maybe you've already read it.
Oh Sue, I hadn’t seen this, but now I have - goodness me, what a post - I’m so happy you linked it here! I’m long overdue a proper reading catch-up, and am grateful that you’ve shared this here. You tell such beautiful stories, and you pique my interest in all sorts of amazing things. Thank you. xxx
We moved into our Pennsylvania house when our boys were four and six, so I marked their heights on the trim of their closet on their birthdays. Both of them soared to 6’+ by the time they left for college, so there were a lot of marks—including when they eclipsed my 5’11”. When we were a few days from leaving that house to move west, I had a panic moment: We couldn’t leave that height record behind! So I called a carpenter who carefully cut out that strip of wood and replaced it, caulking over the gaps and repainting. The new owners never complained, and the scrap made its way into our new home in Colorado. Whew. Graffito history preserved!
Oh Peter, what an absolutely fantastic thing you did there! I can only imagine that awful feeling in the pit of your stomach that you would have had if you’d left that amazing family record behind. Reading this has made my day - that’s terrific! 🙌
I made your day? That makes MY day!
I love your philosophy here, Rebecca. Seeing graffiti in the positive light, as recordings for the consideration of future generations, rather than malicious effacement. If only all of us could look for the good ( in everything) rather than constantly lamenting the bad! Life would be so much more enjoyable. Not an easy thing to do, I fear. Good for you!
It’s an uncomfortable thing, isn’t it? To hate that people feel the need to make their mark in such a way, but to be deeply fascinated years on about who those people were and what the context had been behind those marks. Bit of a paradox.
But that’s what history’s about, I suppose!
LOVED this, Rebecca! And I won't think less of you if you steal off under cover of darkness to scratch a new R.W.H. into a nearby surface. Just not a tree!
I've had an appreciation for graffiti for a very long time, despite the logical side of my brain understanding that it defaces private property. I suppose I take issue, at times, with how certain kinds of private property exclude rather than include, and in that way I don't blame those who want to find ways to reclaim it. Just not on trees!
Oh, it’s extraordinary what some people do, isn’t it? The very next morning after I’d published this post - so, last Sunday - we went out for a walk somewhere I hadn’t been before (Jim’s photographing woodlands for his latest book project, and I sometimes get to tag along) and I came across a tree which had had initials carved into it at a much earlier stage of its life. The letters had stretched only sideways, not upwards, as the girth of the trunk had increased at a greater rate than its height. I felt rather pleased that the tree had fought back to ruin the look of what had been carved into its bark. Take THAT, graffiti!
I loved your examples of the yawp in the wilderness that humans are urged to record in any way and on any surface possible. Indulge me, Rebecca, I can't resist sharing a post about this subject last year or so. Everywhere you go, even in the hinterlands, the taverns, and highways, you can find the marks of those who came before. Hope you get a kick out of this. Heck, maybe you've already read it.
https://suecauhape.substack.com/p/kilroy-is-alive-and-well-and-living?utm_source=publication-search
Oh Sue, I hadn’t seen this, but now I have - goodness me, what a post - I’m so happy you linked it here! I’m long overdue a proper reading catch-up, and am grateful that you’ve shared this here. You tell such beautiful stories, and you pique my interest in all sorts of amazing things. Thank you. xxx