Pauline.

I'm sure there is someone out there {or many people} that wonder why I collect, buy and sell items that are somewhat expired, but allow me to explain.

At most estate sales, the items that are usually leftover, are scraps of paper that reveal the "going-on's" in the lives of that homes prior inhabitants.
Basically, they are small pieces of their live.  Their story.

Much the same as your story speaks from all the corners of your home.  The papers you sign for your child's schoolroom.  The letters you write and recieve. The documents that set you apart from any other living person.  And these items can be valuable, but most of the time they are not {monetarily, that is}.  They simply explain small portions of your life, like a moving novel, scattered on the desk and counter of your kitchen.

And I would assume that you think the scraps of your life are important and rightfully so. They are! They tell your story and that is a important one.  Perhaps a misunderstood one, a tragic one or a painful one.  But it is your story and the only one like it.  Even ordinary lives deserve attention because born from the ordinary are truly profound lessons.  The ordinary is sometimes the most extraordinary {or so I tell myself as I find myself most ordinary} and can be pivotal in the story of others.  You and your life matter, no matter how small you may view them.

So, when I walk in a house and see remnants of a life story, I'm pulled toward them, no matter how simple or unimpressive.

Several weeks ago I visited a home and collected photos, scraps of ephemera and files of their ordinary existence.  I have enjoyed going through them and learning a bit about the family.
Take the matriarch of the family, for instance.
Her name was Pauline and before she had a husband and children, she was a nail artist at a salon. The salon was the Reno Salon.  She worked there {from what I can deduce} beginning in 1941.

I found it interesting, considering that WW2 was occurring.  I wonder if she was forced to work because her family needed the financial support? The pictures I collected did reflect men in uniform, but I can't make out the face well enough to know if her husband was deployed or not.  Had cosmetology been a dream of hers prior to a working age?  And what types of conversations must have occurred at that nail table?

At any rate, this large picture {8 by 10} and cosmetology license was a pretty neat find. I enjoyed wondering about Pauline and what her story must have been about.

Happy Weekend, everyone!