There’s something about beholding aging, worn, or just plain old, but well made things that makes my skin tingle with a feeling very close to that of romantic love. Their aesthetic beauty and functionality are amazing in a way that many recently manufactured things (insert big box store here) are not. Moreover, things from an earlier era typically were made by artisans–created with pride and intended to stand the test of time. Each one with its own story, and evoking memories associated with its particular acquisition. That is why I frequent musems and antique stores. It is with this gentle perspective I observe the marks time etches on the faces of elders–and feel a deep respect, tenderness, and appreciation at my core for their simply being here.