Objects can have stories to them, something that makes them special to the owner. My room is full of objects that have a sentimental importance to me: A metal bookmark with the statue of liberty on it that was intended as a gift for my Grandmother, but she passed before I could give it to her; a broken pen I got from a visit to the New York Times; a little music box that was a gift from my mother; the WWII dog tags of my Uncle Carl, a man I never met nor am related to by blood but who I am nonetheless named after; and dozens of other little things. All these objects are immensely important to me, and I would only part with them under extraordinary circumstances; they are not the topic of this piece of writing. Because to me the most fascinating objects are the ones you find: A bust of a pharaoh I found in a garbage can outside of Columbia University, an interestingly shaped piece of bark I found on the banks of the Hudson, a pen knife I bought in a thrift store in Cold Springs. What makes these objects interesting is that the story of who owned them and what they did with them before you found or purchased them is a mystery. You cannot seek out these objects, you won’t find them on Etsy or Ebay, you need to find them. But out of all of my found possessions one is the most intriguing to me, a zippo lighter.
Its story with me started around 6 or 5 years ago when I was in seventh or eighth grade. It was winter and the snow had piled up into mounds on the sidewalk, as I left the building to head home a shiny object caught my eye. I walked over to it and removed it, it was the lighter. I opened it and pulled back on the wheel which produced a little spark but no flame. I pocketed it before any teacher or one of the other students could take it. As I walked home (and when I was home) I kept flicking it open and close relishing in the iconic sound of the zippo. The flint was almost entirely gone and it was out of fluid, but it still sparked and it still flicked open. My parents let me keep it, knowing I could do little damage with it.
Last year I got it to work. I replaced the flint and filled it with lighter fluid. Now functional I used it to light incense and candles. I don’t have much need for a lighter and I don’t even like the design—it’s the silhouette of a woman dancing like she was in an iPod commercial, unfortunately the place where the lighter opens is roughly where her neck is-but I still like it. When I’m browsing discord, watching a video, or reading some article I will often find myself flicking it open absentmindedly-using it like a fiery fidget spinner. The sounds it produces are deeply satisfying and iconic, it’s hard not to feel cool when using a Zippo.
Occasionally I wonder how it ended up in the snow outside of my school, I have over the years concocted several stories. Maybe some headshot bought it, and that week to impress the girls he insisted on lighting every blunt and the hookah stones. Maybe he even took up smoking to show off his new toy, and still coughed at every inhale of the smoke. And then it fell out of his sweatpants as he walked to his job or school. Maybe it belonged to some old smoker, who after a tough day tried to light up his cancer stick of choice only to find the lighter uncooperative and then flung it into the snow in a rage. Maybe it was lifted by a pickpocket on the subway who threw it into the snow after realizing their mark made the same turn as them. I don’t know and I never will know, that’s what makes it so intriguing.
But my story with the lighter isn’t done yet, I want to do more with this firestarter. I want to use it to start a campfire on the Appalachian trail; to light a candle at a seance; to illuminate a dark cave; to have it in my pocket as I climb the Adirondack high peaks and explore Queens; to hold it aloft during a concert; to light a cigarette for Keith Richards and a joint for Willie Nelson; to light a molotov on May Day in Berlin; to light christmas cakes even though I hate them. Yes it’s foolish, but I want to do things and experience things with this elegant piece of metal by my side. And one day I want to pass it on so that its story can continue.
