According to the dictionary, a Talisman is an object, typically an inscribed ring or stone, that is thought to have magic powers and to bring good luck. I believe in neither magic or luck, however, I’ve come to believe that some sort of energy can be passed from humans to inanimate objects.
Before you dismiss that as hokum, consider if you will, my father’s hammer.
After returning from World War Two, my Dad worked most of his life as a carpenter. He built and remodeled homes. Even after retirement he continued to take calls from people wanting him to hang a new door, replace a window, enclose a porch, things like that. When I was a kid, I used to work with him sometimes, earning a little money in the process but more importantly, getting to spend time with my Dad.
Even if it was on a hot roof pounding roofing nails.
As you might imagine, our garage was full of the tools of his trade. But he had this one particular hammer that never left his side. There’s simply no way to imagine how many nails that claw hammer had hit, removed, or how many boards it had pryed over fifty years. It just seemed to always be in my Dad’s hand.
When he turned 80, my Dad declared that he was done with that sort of work, and told me to take any of his tools out of the garage that I wanted. My only interest was that hammer. Whenever I hold it, I can still see my Dad using it during one or another of dozens of small jobs when we worked together.
It feels as though some of my Dad’s life energy has been forever embedded in that tool, and that makes it special to me. I could go to any hardware store and buy a hundred brand new claw hammers, and none of them would be as special as this one. They have no energy.
I don’t believe in ghosts, spirits, demons, or deities. But somehow, this I believe…
I’ve been taking life a little slower these last few weeks, I suppose that’s given me more time to think on things such as this — and other mysteries of life.
Like, why do I have such a large collection of Morse keys?
I seem to acquire them and then never use them. And that’s because I have a favorite straight key and a favorite paddle — and no interest in ever replacing them.
Since I don’t need an unused cache of telegraph keys, I’ve decided to liquidate my collection. I’m going to pare down to just the two instruments that are in use almost daily, and exclusively.
But that just leaves me to wonder if after using a key for decades, am I pounding some of my own “life energy” into the brass?
Perhaps at the end of it all, my key will become like my Dad’s hammer. Something of a Talisman for my progeny to have and hold, and consider the wonder of such inanimate things that are charged with the energy of life and the power to bring back old memories with just a touch.