GLASS
Memory, Fragility, and the Beauty We Carry
Glass isn’t just decoration—it’s reflection. For individuals in Maryland and DC, this reflection explores how a simple catalog purchase can awaken buried memories, and how fragility and beauty often walk hand in hand across time.
We have a sunroom that needs some decoration. December is when catalogs from every purveyor around the world start showing up in your mailbox. Or, in our case, dropping through the mail slot and landing on the floor. Each day hears an enormous thud—the sorting and recycling of paper increases by a factor of ten, at least. So, we look at some catalogues that are new or unique. The inevitable purchase appears. Now, I know why they send these catalogs. I would never seek this thing, but it has caught my fancy. Somebody would never find a bright red hummingbird in nature, but this glass one in the catalog has caught my eye. A tad expensive but….
I do not know why this catalog caught my attention. There are beautiful leather bags and boxes. I spend time reading about the lace shawls and the organic cotton bedspreads. I am interested in the cashmere sweaters with their turtlenecks and beaded fronts. And, of course, there are the games in wood and ivory. I like the ivory domino set and the wooden chessmen. The checkerboard is gorgeous. And there are plenty of bedspreads and fancy towels to choose from. Yet, I keep returning to the glass figures without realizing why they catch my attention. I spot a gorgeous red hummingbird. Of course, there is no such hummingbird in real life. We do find the ruby-throated hummingbird in the wild. Hummingbird feeders have red on them because the bird is attracted to red, but there is no solid red hummingbird except in the catalog. You guessed it. I bought it.
The bird has arrived, and it is gorgeous! What has possessed me? What does it matter? I like it. It is beautiful. So, let us hang it up. My husband climbs the ladder and places it exactly right in the window. I love it! It is gorgeous! Yet, I am still curious as to why this piece.
Then, I remember a summer trip with my family. Long car trips can be challenging, and we always take long car trips. Flying anywhere was out of the question. There were too many of us. The cost was too much. So, we piled in the Buick and took long car trips. To break up the trips, my parents were vigilant about finding small, interesting, out-of-the-way places to stop and give us a break. Often, the state parks served this relief. Other times, certain specialty shops would be a distraction and allow us to stretch our legs.
On one trip to Michigan, my parents found a shop full of spun glass. The place was like a fairyland. You had to carefully walk down the aisles without touching anything. You held your breath as you looked at the numerous spun figures: Ballerinas, Dancing Bears, Delicate Trees, and Dangling Stars. The place was magical. I did not want to leave. This was paradise. While rounding one corner of the shop, my sleeve caught on the delicate wing of a butterfly. You guessed it. Bang! To the floor. One wing broke off. Of course, the shop owner required payment and carefully wrapped the parts in a small white box.
Gratefully, my parents were not mad. Disappointed, yes. They were unhappy about the expense that they frankly could not afford. Mad. No. Thankfully. But my birthday and Christmas gifts were spun glass figures for the next several years until I had quite a collection.
I forgot about that spun glass collection until this hummingbird caught my eye.
Want to explore the emotional symbolism of glass and memory? Visit SpiritMeans’ guide to broken glass symbolism, Milkweed Arts’ reflection on color and fused glass storytelling, and Offline Post’s analysis of The Glass Menagerie and the fragility of dreams.
If you’re reflecting on memory, loss, or emotional resonance, therapy can help. Learn more about individual therapy in Maryland and DC or explore therapeutic approaches that support emotional insight and personal storytelling.
By Dr. Gloria K Vanderhorst
