History in a Little Pink Purse

There was an interesting conversation around the campfire the other night. I only half-heartedly listened as I was otherwise engaged trying to secure a jumbo marshmallow onto a wee graham cracker. Still the gist of the conversation had to do with perspective and history’s somewhat distorted slant. I personally love history, but as I licked melted chocolate off of the side of my hand, I had to admit there was truth to this campfire theory. We will never quite know exactly what people were doing or thinking. We just have to rely on the evidence, personal accounts and the written word. We need to trust that our fellow humans, in the form of historians, are giving us the best picture possible.

Tonight when I was shoving three rubber super-balls into my very small, pink purse, I wondered, what does my purse say about my own recent history? If 1,000 years from now someone finds my purse, what might it say about the 2011 Pacific Northwest woman? Well let’s take a look. Today the contents of my purse are as follows:

• Three rubber bouncy balls of various colors and design
• One Tootsie Pop
• One business card from a gourmet kitchen shop
• One cloth wallet with a dove and peace symbol on it. Contents of that wallet are as follows: three gifts cards (one of which is to a store which is no longer in existence) and a punch card to Teaching Toys Too
• One receipt from the supermarket on Friday Harbor dated July 9
• One receipt to a teeny tiny pizzeria in Bothell dated July 5
• One tube of cherry Chapstick
• One business card to a gourmet cupcake shop
• One receipt for a shark tooth necklace purchased on Friday Harbor
• One receipt from the local bead store
• Another wallet. This one containing numerous cards including four library cards, one expired license from another state, one license that isn’t expired, bank cards and three, yes three, Panera reward cards
• Another receipt from another pizza place this one dated  May 28
• A barrette
• Car key
• Some loose change totaling a whopping 88 cents
• And, last, but not least, an unidentified piece of metal

I am not sure what picture I have painted of myself. Strange? Boring? Disorganized? Sentimental? Overindulgent? Genius? Shallow? Or just plain hungry? Whatever the impression, I think I will keep my fingers crossed that this little time capsule of mine does not make its way into the Smithsonian.