SCRAPS: Stephen Jones
A little extra.
July 9, 2015
While we were in the process of writing up Jones's Bread Lab, we asked him if he had a picture of himself with his beloved truck he mentions in the piece. He couldn't find it, but instead, we were gifted this snapshot of a life in words:
I know this has been written many times, but it is fascinating to see what random bits of one's life remain over the years to be moved, placed, misplaced, boxed, taped up on a wall, torn down, re-boxed, lost, found, and re-lost for good, or until, and if, possibly, found. I have a shoe box worth of that type of stuff at most, probably 30 pictures, scattered, not boxed per se, intermingled with boxes of more recent, but much less important (for now) stuff.
I found a few pipes from the 80s (will I smoke this week?) a faded yellow torn out (not carefully scissored) short obit for Vonnegut that I found in a Sports Illustrated at a doctors office in 2007(?), some wheat heads (from??? and why??), one of my great grandfather's knives (he was a butcher) put that one in a kitchen drawer, a photo of me with a car in high school (red and white 56 chevy), my Brasilian id card with my photo and finger print dated March 28, 1980 (fuck, 35 years and one day! really? fuck, how did that happen....) where I some how look like a very young spy with a huge mustache and, unknown to everyone but me, a freshly-missing beard, an undated picture of my brother (who died of AIDS in 1992) grating cheese in my kitchen, that one a Polaroid and quite tattered...10 or 12 old Zippos and a few Art Deco lighters including one that is also a desk clock, a bad copy of a photo I have not lost (I have a framed copy in my office at work) of my grandmother on HER motorcycle in LA in 1922...and then I stopped looking.